


Hanged Man more like HUNG Man amirite

by LPSunnyBunny



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aftercare, Akira Cries During Sex, Anal Sex, Assisted Masturbation, Begging, Blow Jobs, Communication, Cuddling, Domination, Explicit Consent, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Overwhelmed, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual, Subdrop, Submission, Subspace, Tattoos, Touch-Starved Akira, Yakuza Tattoos, dirty talking, kink discussion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-08 22:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14704170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPSunnyBunny/pseuds/LPSunnyBunny
Summary: Just a big collection of all the ways that Akira lets Iwai rail him (and probably no plot. No promises though.).(Tags will be added as chapters are added.)





	1. Iwai Gives In

**Author's Note:**

> This just in: Personas give advice. Some give great advice! Others give bad advice. Akira has summoned some for seduction advice.
> 
> Whoop.
> 
> (This will become an important point later. Probably. Maybe.)
> 
> This is *technically* underaged but since Akira's 17 idc about tagging it. 
> 
> This also starts during Futaba's Palace, Akira has a 3 in every stat but guts, which he has a 5. (Gotta max that out to seduce the LITERAL WEAPONS DEALER. Akira why are you like this.)
> 
> This is un-beta'd, so if there are mistakes then oh well. It's basically just an excuse to work on writing smut.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira has made a decision. He would really, really, really like Iwai to just absolutely ruin him. 
> 
> Not that he's going to let that decision interfere with phantom thief work. But this isn't about that. 
> 
> (I have no idea what social link level this is and I don't really care. Maybe 7? maybe 9? WHO KNOWS all I know is that Akira Wants That Dick.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Edit: 6/8/18, added a few lines and cleaned up some spelling mistakes. The decision has been made that it's post max rank for the confidant level.)

Akira Kusuru. Part-timer at Untouchable, seventeen years old, model gun enthusiast, quietly confident, charming, and royal pain in Iwai’s ass.

 

Iwai had played this game before. The kid had some moves, that was for sure, lingering touches and tight jeans that made Iwai want to rip them at the seams, but Iwai was more than old enough to be Kusuru’s father and though Kusuru might be showing his interest more and more, Iwai was holding back pretty firmly.

 

Of course he was interested, something about Kusuru made Iwai feel young again, but he wasn’t about to lose his goddamn mind over some not-even-legal boy with rampaging hormones. 

 

That said, it was pretty hard to ignore the looks Kusuru was giving him lately. The sidelong glances and bitten lips as he stocked the shelves, his gaze sweeping down the length of Iwai’s body before darting away, peeking through his thick lashes whenever he thought Iwai wouldn’t notice.

 

Iwai noticed, of course. He saw everything that happened in his store from where he was behind the counter. He saw the way Kusuru stilled his fidgeting hands whenever he approached Iwai, the way the tips of Kusuru’s cheeks went light pink at praise.

 

“Hey kid.” Iwai said, shaking off his musings, setting down the magazine he was pretending to browse. Kusuru immediately rose up to his feet from where he had been squatting as he stocked the hanging racks. “Come here.” 

 

Kusuru trotted over obediently, dark eyes blinking innocently through his glasses. He stood patiently as he waited for Iwai to speak, hands held loosely at his sides. 

 

Iwai studied him for a long moment, pinning him with a gaze that never failed to make people squirm, back in the day. Kusuru tilted his head down a touch in response, his lashes sweeping against his cheeks as he blinked slowly. The kid had guts, at the very least, to not be phased by Iwai’s gaze.

 

But then again, Iwai already knew that. He hired the kid, didn’t he?

 

“I’ve got a model coming in soon that you might be interested in.” Iwai said, finally breaking the thread of silence that was beginning to pull out a bit too long. Kusuru perked up a little, clearly interested in whatever Iwai was about to pull out. “It’s a bit older, but it was a staple for movies and early TV shows back in the day.”    
  
“What kind is it?” Kusuru asked, tilting his head a little to the side.

 

“It’s called Eliminator.” Iwai said, and flipped the magazine he had been looking through around, tapping one of the pictures of a pistol. “It’s not dissimilar to this one, just with a shorter stock.” 

 

Kusuru leaned in to look at the image, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

 

“The last pistol you got was the Riot Police… this one’ll run you a bit more if you’re interested. It’s ¥20200.”

 

“I’d like to see it in person, first.” Kusuru said, voice soft, and Iwai couldn’t help the approving grunt. 

 

“Smart.” He said, and couldn’t help but notice the way Kusuru ducked his head a little as he straightened back up. “Always make sure you know what you’re getting for your money, kid. Don’t forget that.”

 

Kusuru looked up to meet Iwai’s gaze, blinking owlishly at him. 

 

“I always know what I’m getting into.” He said. Despite the softness of the words, it almost felt like a challenge. Iwai met Kusuru’s gaze head on.

 

“Yeah, well, be careful you don’t get in over your head.” He said. “It’s easy to think you want something only to turn out it was a bad purchase.” 

 

Kusuru bit his lip a little, ducking his head in a half-nod.

 

“I’ll be careful.” He said. Good. Hopefully that was message received. 

 

Kusuru peeked at Iwai through his lashes, a hint of pink dashed across his cheeks. Iwai resisted the urge to crunch his sucker. Or not.

 

“Keep stocking the shelves.” Iwai said, instead.

 

“Right.” Kusuru bowed a little and spun around to head back over. Iwai stared after him, his gaze slipping down to the tight curve of Kusuru’s jeans, hugging his rear. As Kusuru crouched back down, the curve went from subtle to prominent, and Iwai was stuck with a wild desire to sink his teeth into the flesh underneath that denim and see how the pattern of his teeth looked on Kusuru’s lithe body.

 

He abruptly turned away, wrestling his urge back under control. For gods’ sake, he had just finished trying to scare the kid off, he didn’t need to add any fuel to the fire. He picked up his magazine again, unaware of Kusuru’s small, secretive smile as he turned his attention back to his task. 

 

\----

 

Iwai didn’t see Kusuru around for another week and a half, but by that time the new Eliminator models had come in so he sent Kusuru a quick text to let him know. Smartphones might have too many apps for him to keep up with, but at least the did the two basic things right. 

 

Not even two days later the bell jingled as Kusuru stepped over the threshold of Untouchable, dressed in his school uniform. 

 

“You’re here.” Iwai grunted. Kusuru ducked his head a little in response, and Iwai rose to his feet. “You want to see the model?”   
  
“Yes.” Kusuru came to a stop at the counter, waiting. Iwai retrieved the box, carefully undoing the flaps and sliding out the styrofoam holding it. Kusuru looked at it for a moment, his thin, pink lips twisting down into a frown of thought. After a moment, Iwai prompted him.

 

“So, what do you think?” 

 

“You said it’s an older model?” Kusuru asked, his gaze flicking up to meet Iwai’s.

 

“Does that make any kind of difference for you?” Iwai asked. Kusuru started chewing on his lip again, and Iwai couldn’t help the way his gaze shot down to Kusuru’s chapped lips, attracted by the movement. It took longer than he liked to pull his attention back up to meet Kusuru’s eyes. 

 

They were dark, an almost hungry heat searing through them before Kusuru blinked, long and slow, dark and glittering eyes peeking up at Iwai.

 

“No.” He said softly. “Sometimes older models are better.” His tongue poked out, swiping over his lips to wet them in the tiniest flash of pink. 

 

_ Fuck.  _ Iwai walked right into that one. Time to salvage. 

 

“You know, for a kid like you, more modern models might be better.” He said. “Something more… suited for you.”  _ And not illegal.  _

 

“Are you suggesting I couldn’t… appreciate an older model?” Kusuru suggested, his grip on his schoolbag adjusting a little as he shifted his weight. It was almost innocent enough to be passed off as being a real question. Almost.

 

Iwai took a moment to thank any gods out there that his store was empty at the moment. 

 

“I’m  _ saying  _ maybe you shouldn’t push your luck.” Iwai said. “After all, you don’t have many other places around here to indulge your… hobby.” 

 

Kusuru pulled up short for a moment, throat working as he swallowed.

 

“And what if…” He said and hesitated just long enough for it to be noticeable. “I want to push my luck?” His head tilted to the side, dark wisps of hair framing his face in a way that wouldn’t look out of place on the big screen, on a character much more  _ femme fatale  _ than Kusuru. Softening him, but sharpening his gaze at the same time, hidden behind the curve of his glasses, the rim almost disguising the half-lidded look he was sending Iwai.

 

“...” Iwai couldn’t believe the absolute balls on this kid. Oh wait,  _ yes he could _ . Somehow, Iwai had forgotten that this was the same kid who smuggled a bag with unknown contents without batting an eyelid. 

 

The silence stretched on long enough for Iwai to see the hesitance sweep over Kusuru’s face, then vanish again, replaced by an almost bold shyness. 

 

“Then I’d say you’re a misguided teen with too much hormones and not enough output.” Iwai finally muttered, reaching for the model to put it back into its box. “Seriously. Go home, kid. This can’t end in anything but bad endings.”

Kusuru’s hand descended and lay over Iwai’s, warm skin on skin making Iwai freeze in place.

 

“I know what I want.” Kusuru said firmly, his glasses doing nothing to hide his determined stare. “Excuse my forwardness, Iwai-san, but...” He swallowed a little and Iwai could practically see Kusuru’s heartbeat pounding in his throat, but his hand was dry and steady as it gripped Iwai’s. “Maybe it’s teenage hormones, maybe it’s a mistake, but I’ve seen the way you look at me, too. I want it. I want  _ you. _ ”

 

Iwai abruptly realized that was the most he had ever heard Kusuru speak all at once. 

 

“You’re really serious.” Iwai said, almost disbelieving. Kusuru nodded, a quick jerk of his head. 

 

“Yes.” He said. Iwai stared Kusuru down. 

 

Lightning-fast, his hand slipped out from under Kusuru’s and grabbed his wrist, pulling it up and yanking him forwards a little, forcing him into an uncomfortable lean over the counter. Kusuru’s eyes went wide behind his glasses, and he instinctively tried to pull back a little, but Iwai’s grip was like iron, holding him in place. Iwai leaned in until his nose was almost buried in Kusuru’s hair, lips next to Kusuru’s ear. 

 

“I’m sure you’ve realized by now,” Iwai said, his gruff voice low and dangerous, “what kind of a man I used to be. What kind of organization I used to be part of. I’ve seen what the people do to pretty young things like you, the way the world will use you up and grind you into nothing but a wet hole to be used. You really want to get involved with me, a guy who knows all those things and could just as easily do it to you?” 

 

Iwai felt a pang of regret as Kusuru’s frame trembled a little. There went his only decent part-timer. He pulled back a little to look at Kusuru, only to feel like he had the wind knocked out of him. 

 

Kusuru wasn’t shivering in fear. Eyes wide but pupils blown big and black, lips parted as he sucked in breath, he was trembling in  _ arousal  _ and the sight of his moistened lips made heat pool in Iwai’s gut. 

 

“ _ Yes _ .” Kusuru breathed, looking up at Iwai with big, dark eyes. “ _ Please. _ ” 

 

Iwai let go of Kusuru’s wrist and Kusuru slowly retreated back into a normal standing position, getting control over himself as he watched Iwai with glittering, hopeful eyes, head dipped a little in what looked like  _ instinctive  _ submission, looking up at Iwai through his eyelashes.  _ Fuck.  _

 

“Kid…” Iwai said slowly. Fuck. He couldn’t exactly let this go anymore, could he? Not knowing that Kusuru might go out looking for that kind of stuff on his own without any kind of safety net. Not knowing what he knew about Kusuru.

 

Iwai hadn’t been lying, after all. He knew what happened to innocent pretty things like Kusuru. Turned into mindless whores, hooked on drugs and sex and sold into slavery. The least he could do was do this for the kid so he wouldn’t turn into one of those poor things.

 

_ Even so…  _ Iwai ran a slow, assessing eye over Kusuru. That kind of response… Iwai would be lying if he said it didn’t get his engine going. He could feel the stirring of his interest, not long-forgotten, but… pushed aside. Boxed up. Maybe it was time to pull it out again.

 

“If you’re actually serious about this,” Iwai said, and Kusuru’s hand immediately returned to his bag strap, gripping tightly as he swallowed, “then come back at closing time, you understand?” 

 

“Yes.” Kusuru breathed, looking like Christmas had come early, or perhaps like he had been given a precious gift. “ _ Thank you. _ ”

 

“Don’t thank me, kid.” Iwai muttered. “Now get.” He waved Kusuru off, who ducked his head and headed for the door, still grinning.

 

“Oh, Iwai-san?” Kusuru said, and Iwai looked over at him. Kusuru was peeking back over his shoulder, one hand on the door. “I think I’ll take that older model.” 

  
“Cheeky brat.” Iwai told him, and then Kusuru was gone, vanishing out the shop door with the jingle of a bell and a soft, lilting laugh.  


	2. First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (6/8/18 edit- cleaned up a few spelling errors, added a few small details and a couple of lines.)

Akira reached for Arsene’s calm as he walked up to the door of Untouchable, five minutes to close. Arsene chuckled in his ear but obliged, and Akira felt his shoulders even out and his heartbeat steady from it’s frantic pounding.

 

He sent a silent thanks, and felt the brief curl of a warm wing around his shoulders.

 

 _Go seize what you desire, Dear Akira._ Arsene murmured as Succubus tittered a little in the background. She offered up her own thoughts of,

 

_Don’t forget to enjoy yourself!_

 

Akira determinedly shoved down his blush at Lamia’s hearty agreement, feeling Leanan Sidhe’s quiet amusement at the situation. Orthrus was quiet, sitting back and watching through his eyes, tail wagging a little.

 

One last brief caress from Arsene, then Akira was pushing the door to the store open. Iwai was sitting behind the register and his sharp gaze flitted over to pin Akira in place. A strange emotion flashed across Iwai’s face, a furrow of a brow, a narrowing of his eyes, but it was gone before Akira could decipher it.

 

 _He is conflicted._ Leanan Sidhe murmured in Akira’s ear.

 

 _He wants you._ Lamia said, in the other. Akira could feel their hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him on. Akira moved forwards until he was standing in front of the counter, waiting quietly for Iwai to speak.

 

“You’re really serious about this.” Iwai said, crossing his arms with a scowl. Akira just nodded. Orthrus prompted him to wait, to let Iwai work his way through his misgivings. Iwai stared Akira down, but Akira let Orthrus’ watchdog patience fill him up, glad he didn’t have a tail to give away his feelings like the Persona did.

 

Whatever misgivings Iwai had, though, it must not have been enough to stop him, because Iwai sighed and reached up to rub his face.

 

“Fine. Let’s close up, first.” He said, rising to his feet. Akira couldn’t help the bright burst of delight in his chest, or the way it must have shown on his face as he put his bag down on the counter. (Morgana-free, of course. Morgana might have had to deal with Akira’s heartfelt lovesick confessions about Iwai, but he sure as hell wasn’t sticking around to see them become reality. He was hanging out with Ann for the day.)

 

Iwai cast him an almost amused glance, and Akira ducked his head as he turned to hurry and close the front of the shop, pulling down the metal cages over the windows.

 

Rather than the time calming Akira down, Akira found himself getting more and more wound up. Succubus wasn’t helping anything, of course, with the way her hands kept sliding down Akira’s back as she cooed things in his ear, making him blush and fumble with the tasks he was doing.

 

After what felt like forever but was probably only actually five or ten minutes, the shop was closed down and the sign was flipped to closed. Akira stepped behind the counter and up to Iwai, who jerked his head at the back room. Akira felt his heart jump into his throat as he followed Iwai through the door.

 

The backroom was pretty standard for any kind of store, merchandise stacked around that Akira had slowly been organizing into an actual system anytime he picked up work. There were two connecting rooms, one was a bathroom with a tiny shower wedged into the corner, and the other was a small bedroom.

 

It was the bedroom door that Iwai opened, and Akira had to reach for Arsene’s calm again with a desperate grip to try and stop his hands from shaking. Arsene laughed lowly in Akira’s ear, but obliged.

 

 _If that is what you wish._ He said, and Akira felt his heart slow again. _Some things are better experienced when in a heightened state._ Arsene said a touch of chiding understanding in his response. Akira bit his lip a little.

 

 _Maybe so, but…_ Akira thought back at Arsene.

 

 _I understand._ Arsene’s hand rested in between Akira’s shoulder blades, and the slight pressure there prompted Akira to follow after Iwai.

 

The “bedroom”, if you could call it that, was a decently sized, mostly empty rectangular room with a total of three pieces of furniture. A foam mattress and a futon, rolled out on the floor, a (quite frankly uncomfortable-looking) wooden chair, and a low table next to the mattress, meant to be used as a nightstand. There was a nondescript paper bag sitting on the table, and Akira’s gaze was drawn to it, curious.

 

“Kid.” Iwai said, and Akira promptly snapped his attention back to Iwai, where he was taking off his coat and draping it over the chair. His dark sleeves were pulled up by the motion, and Akira glanced down at Iwai’s now-bare forearms, looking at their broad size. The slightest touch of deep blue was curling down around them, and Akira tilted his head a little, trying to study the hints of the tattoos there.

 

 _I bet he’ll pin you down._ Lamia purred. _Muscles like that, the man’s got some strength._ Akira flushed a little at that, trickles of arousal and heat starting to escape from Arsene’s calm.

 

“Come here.” Iwai said, and Akira crossed the room to come to a stop in front of Iwai, looking up at him. There was barely a handful of inches between them, and Akira felt almost dizzy at the lack of space. It was the closest they had ever been, and as Iwai reached up to settle one broad, heavy hand on the back of Akira’s neck, Akira could smell the scents coming off of Iwai. The oil that he sold for work with the models, the ever-lingering scent of metal and polished wood, it was enough to make Akira’s head spin.

 

“You’re really sure you want this.” Iwai said, and Akira nodded, mouth dry. Iwai stared down at him, cool and collected as ever, but Akira could practically feel his thought process in the way that his fingers flexed and shifted on the back of his neck. It was an anchor, rooting him in place and holding him down.

 

The leader of the Phantom Thieves, trapped by one man.

 

 _Kiss him!_ Succubus demanded.

 

 _No,_ Orthrus snapped back, _Wait. Be good mate. Submit._

 

 _Lick your lips._ Lamia purred. _Draw his attention to them._

 

Akira swallowed a little. He wasn’t sure he had the charm to pull that off without it looking obvious. He drew his lower lip into his mouth instead, worrying it, and Iwai’s eyes flickered down to them. His hand on the back of Akira’s neck shifted, slid forwards, cupping Akira’s cheek as his thumb hovered over Akira’s mouth.

 

“Last chance to back out, kid.” Iwai warned.

 

 _He sees kid._ Orthrus grumbled. _Not you. Kid not good for mate._

 

“Stop calling me kid.” Akira said, and Iwai paused, a little taken aback.

 

“Should I call you brat instead?” He asked, but he was clearly amused, one brow quirking up at Akira. He thumbed at Akira’s lower lip and Akira let his tongue flick out to lap over the large digit. Iwai’s gaze went dark and he pressed his thumb into Akira’s mouth. Akira closed his lips around it, letting his tongue lick over it slowly. Tasting the salt on his skin. Iwai’s thumb stroked slowly over Akira’s tongue, pressing it down in Akira’s mouth.

 

“Fine, come here.” Iwai said, after a moment. He pulled his thumb out of Akira’s mouth, cupped the back of his neck again, and bent forwards. Akira’s eyes went wide as Iwai pressed his mouth to Akira’s, his hands hovering uncertainly between them before settling on Iwai’s chest.

 

Iwai kissed like he talked, a slow, steady force that brooked no arguments. Akira’s eyes fluttered shut at the long press of lips, not quite knowing what to do with himself or how to respond.

 

 _Let him lead._ Leanan Sidhe advised. _He is experienced._

 

Akira flushed a little more, feeling his cheeks burn as Iwai’s stubble brushed against his face, Iwai unhurriedly drawing Akira’s lip into his mouth and working it between his teeth. A soft noise tore itself from Akira’s throat, a shameful admission of submission, but Iwai’s hand only tightened on the back of Akira’s throat.

 

His other hand found its way to Akira’s waist, the curve where his hip started blending up, and Akira couldn’t reach for his Personas if he tried, caught up in the sensation of Iwai holding him in place.

 

Iwai’s tongue licked it’s way into Akira’s mouth and Akira _melted_ , his hands curling into the fabric of Iwai’s shirt as though it would stop his knees from failing him. He pressed forwards into the kiss, heat growing from a ember to a flame in his gut.

 

Iwai pulled back and Akira fell forwards, his face pressing into Iwai’s shoulder, aware of how red his face was. He panted softly, desperately reaching for Arsene’s calm. Arsene hummed softly, his wing curling around Akira’s shoulders as he fed him trickles of control to help soothe him.

 

“Easy.” Iwai said, his thumb stroking over the soft hairs curled at the nape of Akira’s neck. “Easy, Kusuru.” Akira jolted a little at his name, wrestling to get himself back under control.

 

“Iwai-san…” Akira looked up at Iwai, who wasn’t looking back down at him. A slight grin had slipped onto Iwai’s lips.

 

“No need for the formalities anymore, brat.” Iwai said. “Not here.”

 

Akira nodded a little into Iwai’s shoulder, knees starting to change back into actual knees, rather than something more like jelly.

 

“Iwai.” Akira murmured. “Please…”

 

“This is your first time, isn’t it?” Iwai said, and Akira nodded into Iwai’s shoulder. Iwai sighed a little.

 

“Sorry your first time is gonna be with an old man like me.” He said, and Akira glanced down for a moment.

 

 _Older just means more experienced._ Succubus purred. _Nothing wrong with older men._

 

“I’m not.” Akira said, and Iwai stilled a little. “Sorry, I mean.” Akira clarified. Iwai shook his head, a low chuckle in his chest. Akira felt it vibrate through him, a low, soothing sound.

 

“You’ve made that pretty clear.” Iwai muttered.

 

 _He’s getting distracted._ Leanan Sidhe said. _Get him back on track._ Akira looked up to Iwai’s face, taking in his furrowed brow and the downturned twist of his lips. He summoned his courage and sparking teenage arousal.

 

“Kiss me again.” He demanded. Iwai blinked, his attention refocusing on Akira.

 

“Brat.” He said, but pulled off his hat, tossing into the chair before leaning in, kissing Akira again.

 

 _Press the offence._ Arsene murmured, hand on Akira’s back. _You are a thief. Take what you desire._

 

Akira let his hands climb up Iwai’s front, circling around the back of Iwai’s neck. He used it as leverage as he pressed on, taking more of an active role this time. Iwai let out a surprised noise but just tilted his head a little.

 

Akira knew he was inexperienced, knew that he was just mimicking and following Iwai’s lead, but he couldn’t help the fierce burst of triumph in his chest when he pulled a low rumble of arousal from Iwai, the sound shooting down his spine and right to his dick.

 

“You learn fast.” Iwai muttered, and hauled Akira close, forcing his legs apart to slide his own knee between them. Akira gasped, eyes going wide at the invasion, fingers digging into Iwai’s shoulders as he clung to him. It was only the scraps of Arsene’s calm he was clinging to that stopped him from humping Iwai’s leg like a goddamn dog, like a teenager during his first time,

 

 _Which you are, there’s no shame in that,_ Lamia reminded Akira, but Akira clung to his self-control stubbornly.

 

 _Submit._ Orthrus growled.

 

Iwai let out a low, rumbling noise as he slowly pressed his leg against Akira’s hardness, and Akira pressed his face into Iwai’s shoulder again, his glasses smushing awkwardly. He couldn’t even spare them a thought, though, because his world was gripped by the feeling of cloth and pressure and the warm, firm body holding him in place.

 

 _A-Arsene, I- I can’t, Please-_ Akira thought desperately, reaching, but Arsene only slipped him a little more of his iron calm, enough to stop him from panicking.

 

 _There is nothing wrong with letting go, Dear Akira._ Arsene chided Akira softly, and Akira gasped as Iwai’s leg shifted, starting a slight rocking. _You do not always have to be composed._

 

“N-no-” Akira’s voice tore from his throat, and Iwai stilled. Akira grabbed at Iwai’s shoulders desperately, panting as he looked up at Iwai. “Please, mo-ore, not like-”

 

“Shit, Kusuru.” Iwai muttered, and slid his knee away. Akira felt his breath leave him all at once, aching and trembling at the feeling of his iron self-control warring with his overwhelming desire.

 

 _Caught between a rock and a_ **_hard_ ** _place indeed._ Leanan Sidhe murmured.

 

“Come on.” Iwai said, pulling Akira over to the bed and guiding him down onto his back. Akira sprawled out on the futon, chest heaving as he wrestled with himself. Iwai reached out, slowly pulling Akira’s glasses off of his face. Akira let him, lips parted as he panted a little, restless energy surging through his limbs as his arousal circled, looking for release. One hand curled into the pillow next to his head, the other lying limply by his side.

 

Everything was just a touch fuzzy without his glasses, but it was fine. He watched Iwai settle his glasses on the table, folded with an almost surprising amount of care.

 

“Brat.” Iwai said, settling onto the bed on his knees, one on either side of Akira’s thighs. He settled one arm over Akira’s head, forearm pressed into the mattress to prop himself up as he leaned over Akira, caging him in.

 

Akira’s head spun a little, both of them were fully clothed and yet he felt so stripped down, like his soul was bare for Iwai to see. He could feel his chin tilting, his body arching up a little towards Iwai, a silent invitation, silently begging for more.

 

 _Your Mate._ Orthrus barked. _He takes. He wants!_

 

 _So handsome…_ Lamia cooed. _Akira, let yourself go._

 

Then Iwai was leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to Akira’s lips.

 

“Kusuru.” Iwai murmured. “All you have to do it say stop, and all this stops. You understand?” His eyes were serious.

 

 _Looking out for you, even now._ Arsene said, and chuckled. _You know how to choose them._ Akira pulled himself together long enough to calm down, looking up at Iwai.

 

“Iwai.” He said, and reached up to drape his arms around Iwai’s neck, doing his best to give Iwai the smouldering gaze that Succubus had taught him. “Don’t. Stop.”

 

It must have worked, because Iwai let out a sharp huff and leaned in again, claiming Akira’s mouth for his own. Akira made a helpless noise as he arched up, but then Iwai was shifting and his hands were on Akira’s blazer, undoing the buttons and tugging it open.

 

His hands slid up under Akira’s turtleneck, and Akira jolted at the touch. Iwai’s touch left a trail of fire, igniting under Akira’s skin. He squeezed his eyes shut as Iwai pulled back, raking his turtleneck up and sliding down the bed to press kisses to Akira’s chest and stomach.

 

Unbidden, Akira was horrified at the moisture he could feel gathering in his eyes, and he kept them closed to try and stave it off.

 

“You’ve got some muscle under there.” Iwai murmured, both hands gripping the sides of Akira’s waist. He squeezed for a moment before reaching for Akira’s belt, starting to undo it. His warm breath ghosted over Akira’s stomach, and Akira’s hands were tightening on Iwai’s shoulders, legs trembling just the tiniest amount.

 

Iwai tugged Akira’s pants down to his thighs, leaving Akira’s underwear on. The briefs were pulled tight against Akira’s hard-on, and Iwai settled one warm hand over the bulge, squeezing gently.

 

Akira made a noise like he had been punched in the gut, all air leaving him at the feeling.

 

 _Let go._ Arsene whispered, and Akira shook his head wordlessly.

 

 _I can’t, I can’t,_ He cried back.

 

 _Relax._ Leanan Sidhe cooed. _Just enjoy it._

 

“No?” Iwai asked, and Akira sucked in a breath.

 

“Yes, please, yes,” he whispered, forced out, and Iwai must have heard him because he gave another squeeze. The flash of pleasure that shot up through Akira made his legs shake, and Iwai chuckled.

 

“Pretty intense, huh?” He murmured. “First times can be pretty raw.”

 

Raw was certainly one way to put it. Akira felt like he had been turned inside out by just the few touches Iwai had given him, his skin aching and tingling where Iwai had been touching it just moments before.

 

“Relax.” Iwai said, then he was pulling off Akira’s underwear and sliding it down his legs to meet his pants. Akira’s dick sprung to full hardness once released, and Akira let go of Iwai’s shoulders to clap his hands over his face, embarrassment surging through him.

 

 _And yet… it seems to excite you even more._ Succubus purred. _Do you like being stripped bare, Akira? Put on display and embarrassed in front of him?_

 

Akira’s heart pounded in his chest, so hard Akira was sure it would break his ribs. He peeked through his fingers at Iwai, who looked distinctly amused.

 

“Relax, brat.” Iwai said, and wrapped his hand around Akira’s length. Akira bit back a whimper with a herculean effort, pulling his hands away to drape his forearm over his eyes instead.

 

 _Stop. Look at him._ Lamia said.

 

 _Do not turn away from this._ Arsene murmured, but Akira resisted. Then warm heat was wrapping around his dick and he choked, body going tense as his nerves all woke at once, his entire awareness focusing down into the single sensation of pleasure.

 

He pulled his arm away from his eyes, draping it up over his head instead legs shaking as he looked down at Iwai, who was _sucking Akira’s dick._ Akira brought a hand up to his mouth to muffle his whimpers, hips pinned in place by Iwai’s firm, strong grip.

 

Iwai pulled back, letting go of Akira’s hips with one hand to grip Akira and slowly stroke him. He flashed Akira a grin full of promises.

 

 _Oh, fuck-_ Akira slammed his eyes shut as his gut flipped and his soul promptly tried to exit via: his dick. The surging wave of heat left him shaking and gasping, his eyes wet as he desperately clawed at his control, it was slipping away, hands over his mouth, only Iwai’s hand pinning him down stopping him from losing himself completely.

 

Akira finally slumped down against the futon, his vision blurry as he gasped for air. He could sense the faint motion in the room, Iwai moving somewhere, but his thoughts were like watercolor running together, blurring into a muddy-colored mess.

 

A warm, wet cloth was swiping over his body. Akira struggled up onto his elbows, trying to focus, but Iwai pushed him back down against the futon. Akira went boneless, trying to pull his thoughts together, but his Personas were mostly silent other from a warm, all-encompassing feeling of approval.

 

“Shit. Did I break you?” Iwai’s hand brushed over Akira’s forehead, pulling his hair back and unsticking it from his sweaty forehead. Akira blinked up at Iwai who was still almost entirely clothed.

 

“No.” Akira mumbled. “Just… muddy.”

 

Iwai huffed a laugh, scratching at the top of Akira’s head, running fingers through Akira’s curls.

 

“Guessed as much.” He said. His hand moved down, gently thumbing away the moisture on Akira’s cheeks. “You okay?”

 

Akira nodded a little, and forced himself up into a half-sitting position.

 

“You haven’t-” He reached for Iwai’s belt, but Iwai shook his head, catching Akira’s hand.

 

“Not this time, Kusuru.” He said.

 

“That’s not fair, though.” Akira said, unable to stop his brow from furrowing. Iwai gave Akira a look.

 

“It’s not about fair.” He said gruffly.

 

 _He gave._ Orthrus rumbled, the first words to really break through Akira’s muddled thoughts. _No take more._

 

 _Let it be, Dear Akira._ Arsene’s hand settled onto the low of Akira’s back. _He has already given you a large portion of what you seek. Leave it for another time._

 

“....okay.” Akira eventually said, his voice soft. Iwai let go of Akira’s hand, and Akira flushed a little as he realized his underwear was still down around his thighs. Iwai had cleaned him up, but that didn’t stop Akira from reaching down and wiggling his clothes back into place.

 

Iwai watched Akira fix his clothes for a moment. Akira wrinkled his nose a little as the last of the hazy feeling slipped away and he realized just how sweaty and exhausted he felt.

 

“Are you going to be okay wearing that home?” He asked, and Akira blushed a little, ducking his head.

 

“I’ll stop at a bathhouse.” He said, tugging his turtleneck down into place and starting to do up his buttons.

 

“Right.” Iwai said, and pushed up to his feet. Akira watched him collect his coat and pull it back on, and he forced his way up to his feet. Drawing on Orthrus’ strength and resolve helped him not stumble, but Iwai still caught his sway. He reached out to grab Akira’s elbow, steadying him.

 

“Kusuru, you can stay there for as long as you need.” Iwai said, but Akira shook his head.

 

“I’m okay.” He murmured. Iwai gave him an unconvinced look, but didn’t press him. Akira breathed for a moment, catching his balance, before looking up at Iwai and taking a step forwards into his space.

 

“Thank you.” Akira went up onto his toes and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Iwai’s mouth. Pulling back, Akira felt a flicker of delight as he caught the faint pink to Iwai’s cheeks.

 

“Yeah, well,” Iwai muttered, turning away, “I couldn’t exactly let a brat like you stumble into the wrong hands, now could I?”

 

Akira ducked his head and smiled as Orthrus let out a delighted bark, Succubus laughing delightedly.

 

 _I believe that is the first time you have stolen a heart without the use of the Metaverse._ Arsene murmured. _Well done. We will make a true thief out of you in no time._

  
_Is it stolen if it is willingly given?_ Akira wondered, but Arsene merely laughed.


	3. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (6/8/18 edit- added in Iwai's tattoos, fixed a few spelling errors, touched up a couple of details. Iwai having tattoos was HEAVILY inspired by Matroyshka by Royce_Clayton and I highly recommend everyone goes and reads it because hot damn.)

“I want to work.” Kusuru said, and Iwai leveled him with a serious expression. 

 

“Sure.” He glanced over at the regular that was browsing over at one of the shelves. He lowered his voice for the next sentence. “There will be no…  _ funny business  _ while you’re on the clock, understand?” 

 

“I understand.” Kusuru said, blinking at Iwai innocently, but Iwai didn’t buy the innocent expression one bit. Kusuru vanished into the back room to put on his work clothes, and Iwai steeled his nerves for the next couple of hours. No doubt the kid would make some kind of advance.

 

But… four hours passed and Kusuru hadn’t made a single pass. Of course Iwai saw the lingering looks still, but they were more like a sunflower turning to face the sun. Simple, inevitable, and unchangeable. 

 

Kusuru was wiping the front glass of the counters down after close when Iwai made up his mind.

 

“Hey, Kusuru.” Kusuru immediately looked up at Iwai where he was leaning against the open door frame. “Did you come here with the intent to do anything, tonight?” 

 

“Yes.” Kusuru answered honestly and Iwai couldn’t help the surprised chuckle. The kid certainly was forward enough when he wanted something.

 

“Alright, come here, then.” Iwai had a feeling that if it wouldn’t have caused everything to go crashing, Kusuru would have promptly vaulted over the counter. As it was, though, he came around the counters and stopped in front of Iwai, who reached out and hooked a hand around the back of Kusuru’s neck, pulling him in to give him a quick, deep kiss. 

 

Kusuru’s mouth opened easily to Iwai, not even a hint of resistance, and Iwai could feel the way Kusuru just melted under his hand, pressing closer to grab at Iwai’s jacket.

 

“Come on.” Iwai muttered against Kusuru’s lips, pulling back. Looking down at him, Iwai felt a deep flash of feral joy at the dazed look in Kusuru’s eyes. He didn’t linger, turning away to lead Kusuru into the bedroom in the back.

 

Kusuru followed obediently, toeing off his shoes as Iwai stripped off his own jacket. He lined them up neatly next to the door, and the tiny little detail made Iwai chuckle, turning away to drop his jacket on the chair.

 

“Do I get to return the favor today?” Kusuru asked, his voice soft, and Iwai turned to look at him. Kusuru was standing there, head tipped slightly to the side, his expression calmly curious. No hint of the previous flush on his cheeks. 

 

What a weirdly in-control kid. Seeing him return to neutral so easily just made Iwai want to rip away that calm even more.

 

“If that’s what you want.” Iwai eventually said, plopping down onto the chair to undo the laces on his boots, kicking them off. He tossed his hat down on the chair as he stood up, walking over to the bed and sitting on it, holding a hand out to Kusuru.

 

Kusuru bit his lip and took it, letting Iwai pull him down onto the bed, settling Kusuru in his lap, thighs parted to straddle Iwai’s thighs. His hands settled onto Iwai’s shoulders, his gaze flickering uncertainly between Iwai and somewhere down off to the side.

 

“Having second thoughts?” Iwai asked, reaching up to slip Kusuru’s glasses off. Kusuru shook his head. Iwai folded Kusuru’s glasses up and leaned over to place them on the table next to the paper bag still placed there from last time.

 

“No.” Kusuru said, shifting a little on Iwai’s lap. Iwai chuckled at the determined grip on his shoulders, pulling Kusuru in to kiss him deep. Kusuru let out a soft, breathy noise, pressing forward against Iwai’s chest. 

 

Iwai huffed a little, his hands settling onto Kusuru’s hips to hold him in place. The brat certainly was eager, once he was in the mood. He could feel the start of Kusuru’s hard-on pressing into his stomach. 

 

Iwai slid one hand up the underside of Kusuru’s shirt, pressing the offence a little more, claiming his mouth roughly. Kusuru’s skin was warm and soft and it made Iwai’s desire flare up, Kusuru’s kissing taking on a little more edge, a flash of teeth. 

 

His hand slid a little further up Kusuru’s back, over the bumps of his spine, raking up Kusuru’s shirt a little more, and Iwai let out a grunt as fingers dug into his shoulders. 

 

“Nnn…” Kusuru pulled back, one hand letting go and fluttering up to his mouth as he caught his breath, swaying back a little. The air between them was heated, lending itself to the flush starting to appear across his cheeks. “Iwai…” 

 

“You get worked up real easily, brat.” Iwai couldn’t help teasing him, just a little grin, but it made Kusuru duck his head and lean in, tucking his forehead into the crook of Iwai’s neck. Iwai felt a brief flicker of amusement before warm wetness started flicking against his neck, Kusuru mouthing along Iwai’s neck.

 

Cheeky brat.    
  


“Hey.” Iwai slid his hand out from under Kusuru’s shirt, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Kusuru’s black locks. “Careful where you’re sucking, brat, my collar doesn’t go up that high.” He tugged back on Kusuru’s hair to illustrate his point, and Kusuru made a noise like choking, like a bitten-off moan, going into the motion and letting Iwai draw him back, his body curving in a perfect arch, hands spasming against Iwai’s shoulders.

 

All the blood in Iwai’s body made a valiant effort to rush southwards all at the same time, and the sensation left him dizzy for a second before he could collect himself.

 

Kusuru was trembling in Iwai’s lap, still leaning back into Iwai’s grip, and Iwai tightened his fist a little more, tugging Kusuru back in. Kusuru’s eyes were screwed shut, mouth open, thighs tightening into a grip on Iwai’s hips as he desperately fought for balance, shifting forwards and backwards a little like his whole world was spinning.

 

Who knows, maybe it was.

 

“Kusuru.” Iwai said, and Kusuru forced his eyes open, a strange edge of desperation in them, a crack in his perfectly-controlled mask. 

 

“I-Iwai-” He whispered, “I- nnnnGH-” He gasped, bucking up against Iwai as Iwai forced his head back. His long, pale neck was on display, convulsing as he swallowed, and Iwai leaned in to press a kiss to the side of Kusuru’s neck, feeling the pounding of Kusuru’s heart.

 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Iwai growled, and Kusuru honest-to-god  _ whimpered.  _ Iwai’s other hand, still on Kusuru’s hip, tightened and forced Kusuru up a little further on Iwai’s thighs. Kusuru’s hands fluttered on Iwai’s shoulders, sliding down to rest over his chest, shaking so hard Iwai could feel it through his clothes. 

 

“ _ Isn’t it? _ ” Iwai pulled Kusuru a little farther in both directions, and Kusuru let out a wet, choking gasp.

 

“Yes,  _ yes, please, yes, _ ” Kusuru yelped, his entire body thrumming like a wire pulled tight about to snap. Iwai kissed the pulse point of Kusuru’s neck again, barely stopping himself from sinking his teeth in. 

 

Instead, he let go of Kusuru’s hips and fumbled with his belt instead, forcing it open with one hand. He slid his hand into Kusuru’s pants and wrapped his hand around Kusuru’s hard-on, and Kusuru let out a near-sob of relief. 

 

“Oh, Iwai- Iwai-” He gasped, and Iwai let up on the hair-pulling, giving the brat’s poor neck a break. 

 

Kusuru’s hands slid under Iwai’s arms, hooking around him to grab at his back as he surged forwards again, hips jerking up as Iwai started a slow, firm pace.

 

“Please, Iwai.” Kusuru’s voice was breathy, almost a moan but not quite. 

 

“Take this off.” Iwai ordered, letting go of Kusuru’s hair to slid his hand down to the hem of Kusuru’s shirt and grab at it. Kusuru heaved a breath, but then went still, clearly wrestling himself back under control. His legs were still shaking when he finally wiggled backwards, reaching for the hem of his shirt and starting to strip it off, shaking his head a little as he pulled it up and over, his curls bouncing a little. 

 

His chest was heaving, hands hovering between them as he waited for Iwai to tell him what to do. Dark, desperate eyes were trained on Iwai’s face, and Iwai reached out to thumb over Kusuru’s lips. Iwai ran his gaze down Kusuru’s front, aware of the way it made Kusuru squirm a little. Light pink nipples against pale skin, toned muscles under his boyish chub, Kusuru was lean without being dangerously so. No doubt from whatever he and his thieves did.

 

“Iwai.” Kusuru’s lips shaped his name under his thumb, and Iwai’s gaze flicked up to watch a drip of sweat roll down the side of Kusuru’s neck. His eyes followed it as it slipped down to Kusuru’s prominent collarbone, and he leaned in to lick it off, mouth gliding up to the curve of Kusuru’s shoulder. 

 

Kusuru went still on a gasp, hands still hovering between their bodies, and Iwai closed his teeth on the meat of Kusuru’s shoulder, intent on leaving his mark. No one would see it, here, but Iwai  _ knew  _ the brat would touch it whenever he jerked off. 

 

Kusuru made a soft, quavering noise as Iwai worked his teeth to darken the mark, one hand coming up to cup the back of Iwai’s head. Iwai spent another moment there, then pulled back to examine his work.

 

The mark was starting to turn a deep, tender purple, his teeth standing out as dents in Kusuru’s skin. Iwai pressed his thumb into it, a deep savage satisfaction unfolding in his gut. 

 

Once upon a time he had thought he had left those feelings behind him, but Kusuru seemed to be awakening them in him once again.

 

And speaking of other feelings, Kusuru rocked forwards a little, breathing heavy and desperate, and drew Iwai attention to the heavy throbbing in his own gut, his desire reawakening after so long left idle. 

 

“Alright, Kusuru.” Iwai said, pulling back all the way to lean back against the wall again. “You wanted to return the favor today?” He said, and Kusuru swayed for a moment, regaining his equilibrium. He blinked at Iwai for a moment before the words registered, piercing through his fogged brain. 

 

“Ah, yes.” Kusuru’s cheeks went from lightly dusted to coated in pink, growing flustered at Iwai’s words. Iwai felt himself grin at the sight, his perfectly-composed part-timer embarrassed and desperate. 

 

“Go ahead and take mine out, then.” Iwai shifted his hips a little more towards the edge of the bed to make it a little easier on Kusuru. Kusuru sank his teeth into his lower lip, squirming back a couple inches on Iwai’s lap as he reached for Iwai’s belt, hands fumbling as he worked it open. He forced Iwai’s pants down just enough for him to dip his hands into Iwai’s boxers, pulling out the cock inside. 

 

Iwai bit back a groan at Kusuru’s almost delicate touch. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say it had been more than a decade since anyone else had touched him like this, and feeling Kusuru’s clumsy, experimental grip forced Iwai to wrestle with the almost overwhelming surge of feelings that washed through him. 

 

He got himself under control long enough to pry his eyes open again, and drank in the wide-eyed, innocent look on Kusuru’s face, lips parted a little as he shifted his hand, cupping the head of Iwai’s cock in his palm and giving it a slow squeeze.  _ Really, what a virgin look. This kid is gonna be the death of me.  _

 

If he hadn’t been watching, Iwai would have missed the flash of determination that flickered through Kusuru’s eyes. As it was, he was only slightly caught-off guard by Kusuru letting go and reaching for the hem of Iwai’s shirt, tugging it up.

 

“Alright, alright.” Iwai obliged, raising his arms up to let Kusuru pull his shirt off. Iwai had lost muscle definition since he left the Yakuza, his body starting to sag as all men’s do as they aged, but Kusuru didn’t seem to care, his eyes sweeping over Iwai’s torso, biting his lip. 

 

Inevitably, his gaze lingered on Iwai’s upper arms, where deep blue was spilling up and down them, vibrant tattoos that had yet to fade, even years later. Iwai couldn’t help his amusement at Kusuru’s wide-eyed look, hand reaching out to hover over the ink. He cast an uncertain glance at Iwai, who let out a huff of amusement.

 

“Go ahead.” He said. Kusuru’s hand descended and fingers started to lightly trace the lines of the river, gently tracing the scales of the silver koi swimming up Iwai’s arm, following the river to where it cascaded over his shoulder to his back and pooled forwards, over his breast. Iwai indulged him for a long minute, thoroughly amused by Kusuru’s reaction to the ink. Reverential touch, parted lips, wide eyes- looks like Iwai just found something that really got Kusuru going.

 

“Hey.” Iwai said, and Kusuru started a little, pulling his hand back with a guilty flush settling onto his cheeks. Iwai paid it no mind- for now. This would be something to explore another time.

 

“Grab me that bag, won't you?” Iwai glanced at the paper bag sitting on the bedside table, untouched from last time, and Kusuru twisted to find it, reaching over and grabbing it. He opened it as he resettled onto Iwai’s lap, and ducked his head, biting his lip as he looked down at the contents. 

 

Iwai huffed a laugh, taking the bag from Kusuru and pulling out the tube of lube. He ignored the rest of the contents inside, dropping it off to the side of the bed. He popped the lube open and poured some into his hand before recapping it and dropping it next to them. 

 

“Alright brat, come here.” Iwai reached for Kusuru’s hip with his not-slick hand, grabbing him and pulling him up against himself. Kusuru gasped, his eyes going wide as their cocks bumped against each other, a slide of skin that had Iwai biting back his own noise. 

 

He reached down and wrapped his hand around both of their lengths, the cold of the lube making Kusuru flinch a little, but then he was curling forwards, pressing his face into Iwai’s neck as he started quivering, Iwai’s hand starting a steady rhythm. Iwai couldn’t help the low noise that escaped him as he tightened his hand, but Kusuru let out a breathy sound that had Iwai grinning. 

 

“Easy, brat.” Iwai muttered, turning his head enough to press a kiss to the side of Kusuru’s head. He quickened his hand a little more, his other coming to rest on Kusuru’s damp back, sweat starting to pool in the dips of his spine. 

 

“I-Iwai, please…” Kusuru breathed, his hands sliding around Iwai’s torso again to hold him tightly. “Could you pull my hair?” He asked desperately, and Iwai was momentarily struck dumb. 

 

“Hm.” Iwai made a thoughtful noise, but slid his hand up Kusuru’s back anyway, fingers tangling up in Kusuru’s hair, then he tightened his grip. 

 

Kusuru  _ moaned _ , a rough noise torn from his throat, his fingers clutching desperately at Iwai’s shoulders, legs shaking as he bucked his hips up into Iwai’s grasp. Iwai couldn’t help the deep satisfaction curling in his gut, pleasure surging up to match. 

 

Iwai redoubled his efforts to make Kusuru cum, upping the pace and twisting his hand at the top of the strokes, Kusuru’s wet, choked noises in his ear.    
  
“Ah, ah, Iwai, Iwai, Iwai-” Kusuru whimpered, hot breath fanning out over Iwai’s shoulders. Iwai tightened his grip again and Kusuru clawed at Iwai’s back, sharp little  _ ah-ah-ah _ s tearing from his throat as he came, salty fluid spilling out over Iwai’s hand. 

 

Iwai kept his grip tight, pumping slowly until Kusuru whimpered, squirming a little, then Iwai relaxed his hand. Kusuru slumped against Iwai’s shoulder, making little soft, hitching sounds as he struggled to catch his breath.

 

Iwai shoved away his own mounting urge for release, stroking his clean hand over Kusuru’s damp hair and sweeping down his neck, then back, through the beads of sweat there, then repeating the motion.

 

“D…” Kusuru swallowed thickly, then tried again. “Don’t let me.. Stop you.” He mumbled against Iwai’s neck. Iwai carefully shifted his grip to let of of Kusuru’s softening cock, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he started stroking again, fast and hard. Kusuru’s damp breath against his neck, the feeling of fingers resting on his shoulder blades, the light trembling of Kusuru’s frame… it wasn’t long before Iwai found his own release, exhaling it out on a quiet groan.

 

He started lightly petting Kusuru’s hair again, keeping his eyes closed as he enjoyed the warmth weighing his limbs down for a minute. 

 

Finally, he cracked his eyes open, letting go of his own now-soft cock. Kusuru’s trembling had subsided, and now he was just pressing his face to Iwai’s neck and breathing.

 

“Hey.” Iwai dug his fingers into Kusuru’s hair and lightly scratched his scalp. “You still alive?”

 

Kusuru nodded into Iwai’s neck, but made no move to get up. Iwai sighed a little, the glow fading and leaving him with nothing more than a desire to clean up, becoming aware of how sweaty and sticky they were. 

 

“Alright, come on.” Iwai grunted. “Up. Lets get cleaned up.” 

 

It took him a moment, but Kusuru pulled back and shuffled to his feet, his head ducked. Iwai grabbed at his pants with his clean hand, holding them up as he got up and headed to the door, intent on getting to the bathroom and getting the spunk off. 

 

He started running the water in the sink and had found a washcloth by the time Kusuru joined him, still not looking at Iwai. Iwai felt his stomach drop out, and cleaned himself up in sharp efficient motions before tossing the washcloth in the sink and stepping over to Iwai, his mouth dry as fear started to make his heart race.

 

“Hey.” Iwai said, reaching out and taking Kusuru’s chin in his hand, tilting his head up. “What’s… wrong?” He frowned, seeing the tear-tracks down Kusuru’s cheeks. Kusuru’s eyes flicked up to meet Iwai’s for a moment before he tugged his chin out of Iwai’s grip, reaching a hand up to scrub at his cheeks.

 

“Nothing.” He said, an odd note to his voice. Iwai hesitated a moment. 

 

“Look, if you’re regretting this, or-”

 

“I’m not.” Kusuru’s wide eyes shot up again to meet Iwai’s, indignant and firm. He flushed, dropping his gaze again, and Iwai couldn’t help the sigh of relief. “It’s just-” Kusuru finished wiping his cheeks. “It’s embarrassing.” He said quietly, and Iwai immediately understood.

 

“What, the crying or the being into getting your hair pulled?” Iwai asked with a snort, reaching for the washcloth again to hand to Kusuru, who took it with pink cheeks. “Believe me, Kusuru, I’ve seen a lot fucking weirder with a lot stranger people.” 

 

“Oh.” Kusuru said softly, wiping himself down. He rinsed the washcloth off then wiped his face clean, peeking at Iwai over the edge of it, holding it to his mouth. Iwai reached out a hand and settled it on top of Kusuru’s head, unable to stop himself from chuckling. 

 

“Don’t worry about it.” He said. “You would not believe the range of shit I’ve indulged in my partners in the past.” He swept an assessing gaze over Kusuru, letting him see the motion. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll introduce you to some of it another time.” 

 

Kusuru blushed hard, gripping the washcloth hard. 

 

“I’d like that.” He admitted. Iwai ruffled Kusuru’s damp hair, leaning in. Kusuru lowered the washcloth eagerly, tilting his head up a little to let Iwai kiss him, sweet and gentle. Iwai took a minute to enjoy the soft press of their mouths, then pulled back.

 

“Go ahead and take a shower before you head out.” Iwai said, tilting his head towards the economical shower in the corner of the bathroom. “I won’t lock you in, promise.” 

 

A mirthful expression crossed Kusuru’s face.

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Iwai.” He said, and Iwai huffed a laugh. 

 

“Brat.” He said, pushing past Kusuru and giving him a swat on the ass. Kusuru gave a little start, but Iwai just pressed on to head back into the bedroom and retrieve his clothes. 

 

Fuck, he’d have to shower too. Maybe he should start keeping spare clothing at the store...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I sat down to write Akira reciprocating and then he got overwhelmed so hard and Iwai took over. Whoops. Maybe next time you'll be more prepared, Akira.


	4. Self-Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. Is this fic taking on a life of it's own? I genuinely just sat down to write Akira jerking it and suddenly there was a lot more... almost plot and feeling than I was expecting.
> 
> (6/8/18 edit- fixed a few spelling errors and made a couple of itty-bitty phrase adjustments.)

Akira woke from a dream about the twisting, turning tracks of Mementos, heart pounding, hands trembling, eyes flying open to stare at the ceiling, terror pulsing through his veins. 

 

_ Easy.  _ Arsene, ever-present and comforting, murmured in Akira’s ear.  _ Was nothing more than a dream.  _

 

Akira drew in a shuddering breath, turning over onto his side to curl around Morgana’s form, settling a hand on Morgana’s side, rising and falling as he slept. He took a moment to run his fingers over Morgana’s ribs, counting them silently to ground himself.

 

_ I know.  _ He eventually said back to Arsene.  _ I know. _

 

_ What troubles you, Dear Akira?  _ Arsene asked, and Akira felt the familiar wing drape over his shoulder. Almost like a hug. There-but-not-there, all in his head. 

 

_ Shouldn’t you know that?  _ Akira couldn’t help the despondent edge to his reply, but Arsene was far from offended. There was a warm amusement diffusing across their bond.

 

_ Of course.  _ Arsene replied.  _ Thou art I. However, I understand that, much in the same way you drain poison from a wound, speaking of problems help lessen their weight. _

 

Akira trailed his fingers slowly down Morgana’s side, a gentle petting that he knew Morgana pretended to hate, but would always lean into whenever he thought Akira wasn’t paying attention. 

 

_ I… don’t really know.  _ Akira eventually said.  _ There’s just a...weight. Everywhere.  _ Unable to articulate what he meant, he did his best to bundle up the heavy knot of emotion in his chest and shove it at Arsene. 

 

Arsene chuckled, his low voice soft. Pressure curled up along the back of Akira’s body, as though his Persona was pressed up along him from behind.

 

_ You worry.  _ Arsene murmured, and Akira could almost feel the soft wind of Arsene’s words against the back of his neck.  _ You care, and that makes you afraid.  _

 

Akira sunk his teeth into his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut. It wasn’t that Arsene was  _ wrong _ , per say, but that made him sound so… pathetic.

 

_ I shouldn’t be so worried.  _ He finally said.  _ Futaba’s gonna be okay, Medjed is gonna be dealt with, we’re really starting to come together as a team… but…  _ Akira trailed off, and Arsene made an understanding noise.

 

_ And yet, you cannot shake the feeling of unease that lingers.  _ He said, and Akira nodded slowly. 

 

_ And then there’s also... _ Akira hesitated.

 

_ Your lover?  _ Arsene prompted wryly.

 

_ Don’t call him that.  _ Akira pressed his burning face into his pillow. 

 

_ Should I name him your beau, then?  _ Arsene teased.

 

_ No!  _

 

_ Ah. Would you prefer a more modern term, your- ahem. ‘Booty Call’? _

 

  1. Akira made a valiant effort to swat mentally at Arsene, who just laughed, deep and amused.



 

_ However you wish to define him, he troubles you, does he not?  _ He prompted, and Akira finally relaxed back into a lazy sprawl, starting to resume his petting of Morgana again.

 

_ I just…  _ Akira let his other hand slide up to touch his shoulder, pressing over the mark that Iwai had left behind. He dipped his fingers under his collar to touch the tender, puffy mark, tracing over the teeth marks there. He shuddered at the jolt that zinged from the mark, lightening his touch a little.

 

_ He claimed you.  _ Arsene said, his voice low.  _ He marked you as his. Is that not enough, Dear Akira? _

 

_ No, I…  _ Akira fumbled with his words.  _ He… what if he changes his mind? Decides this is a mistake? I could have put our entire supply at risk, the Phantom Thieves need that armor and weapons… _

 

_ Easy, Dear Akira.  _ Arsene murmured, draping his iron calm around Akira like a veil. Akira breathed it in gratefully, suddenly aware of how his hands were starting to shake, and he pulled his hand away from Morgana.  _ Steady your heart.  _ One of Arsene’s hands draped over Akira’s, over Iwai’s mark.  _ He claimed you. Even if there are doubts in his heart, he has made up his mind.  _

 

Akira swallowed, his heart still pounding against his ribs despite Arsene’s help. 

 

_ He has chosen you.  _ Arsene continued.  _ Do not make light of that decision.  _ Akira pulled in a deep breath and held it, closing his eyes.

 

_ I’m not.  _ He finally thought, words firm.  _ Rationally, I know that he agreed and he cares and he worries, but…  _

 

_ The heart does not let such feelings so easily.  _ Arsene finished for Akira, and Akira felt relief sweep through him.

 

_ Yes, exactly.  _ He thought, grateful. Arsene’s touch was light, all all Persona’s were, but Akira felt just the softest increase of pressure over his own fingers, and pressed his own down harder in response. The zing spreading from the bitemark made him bite his own lip in response, eyes screwing shut. 

 

_ Might I suggest heading downstairs?  _ Arsene sounded distinctly amused, his low voice rumbling in Akira’s ear and sending a shiver down his spine.

 

_ Arsene…  _

 

_ Merely looking out for your friend.  _ Arsene urged Akira up with a gentle touch, and Akira followed, carefully slipping out of bed, doing his best to not disturb Morgana. He headed down the stairs, not noticing Morgana’s eyes open in the dark room, watching Akira head downstairs with a worried expression.

 

Akira quietly closed the bathroom door, turning to look in the mirror. The faint, hazy outline of Arsene hovered behind him in the reflection, and Akira watched as Arsene draped his wings around Akira, leaning in and sliding his arms around Akira’s neck, the edge of his mask lightly touching alongside Akira’s head. 

 

Akira concentrated, pulling forwards his Third Eye, and the world around them faded to grey. Arsene’s form, in contrast, grew more vivid, blazing reds offset by his deep blacks, white spilling down his front.

 

In the mirror, Akira watched his eyes go a deep red, the same color of Arsene’s fire, the color of desire, the color of blood pulsing through his veins with every heartbeat.

 

_ Dear Akira.  _ Arsene’s head turned a little, the sharp grin of his mask pressing to the side of Akira’s head.  _ Perhaps you just need to… release some of your stress.  _ His wings shivered a little, as though Arsene were laughing, and Akira resisted the urge to reach out and touch them, knowing his fingers would pass through.

 

_ After all… letting yourself go is an intoxicating feeling you chase after, is it not?  _ Arsene crooned, and Akira resisted the heat blooming in his cheeks, reaching for Arsene’s calm once more. Arsene fed him a trickle, holding the rest out of Akira’s grasp.

 

_ Arsene, please. I-  _ Akira hesitated, his eyes fluttering shut. Arsene’s arms, draped over Akira’s shoulders, slid down his sides to envelop Akira in an almost-hug. 

 

_ Why not?  _ Arsene purred, responding to Akira’s warring hesitance and desire. One hand meandered it’s way down Akira’s front, splaying out just over Akira’s waistband, the other drifting up to lightly tap fingers against Akira’s neck. 

 

_ Because I… O-oh…  _ Akira’s breath hitched in his throat, letting his head tip back instinctively. Arsene’s fingers curled around Akira’s neck, just enough pressure to trick Akira’s brain into feeling them properly.  _ Arsene… It’s… _

 

_ How is it strange?  _ Arsene murmured, the ruffle of feathers reaching Akira’s ears.  _ I am Thou.  _

 

_ T-thou are I…  _ Akira bit his lip, chewing it a little. His hand reached up and settled over his shoulder, over the mark, and pressed down on it. A rough, choked moan tore itself from his throat and he curled forwards in response, blindly reaching out to catch himself on the sink, keeping his eyes closed. 

 

Akira slowly sank to his knees, fumbling with the hem of his sleeping pants. Arsene made a soft, humming noise.

 

_ Would you like it, Dear Akira?  _ Arsene’s fingers lightly stroked over Akira’s neck, making him tremble.  _ For your Hanged Man to see you like this?  _

 

The thought made Akira gasp, relief coursing through him as he wrapped his palm around himself. 

 

_ Desperate. Needy.  _ Arsene purred.  _ Aching for him, touching yourself.  _

 

“A-Ah, Arsene-” The name tore itself from Akira’s lips, and Arsene tutted. Akira braced his arm against the rim of the sink, pressing his forehead to his forearm, desperate for an anchoring point as he started jerking himself furiously.

 

_ You would prostrate yourself for him, begging.  _ Arsene’s hand slid up Akira’s neck, cupping the underside of his chin. Akira’s breathing took on a raspy quality, mouth open as he panted, his blood boiling. Everything was too hot, too sharp, and Akira whimpered, desperately reaching for Arsene, for his calm. 

 

_ I-I can’t, I can’t-  _ Akira sucked in a deep breath, shaking hard, everything was taking on the crystalline edge he couldn’t handle, too strong and  _ overwhelming- _

 

_ You will.  _ Arsene’s wings closed around Akira, soft feathers trailing over Akira’s arms. Akira gasped, a thick, wet noise, sharp spikes shooting through his body, sucking in air like he was drowning, unable to stop, his entire body locked against the terrifying edge of pleasure that was surging forwards, stringing him thin and pulling him to the breaking point.

 

_ Arsene, PLEASE-!  _ Akira cried, feeling those damnable tears starting to slip out.

 

_ Easy, easy.  _ Arsene soothed Akira, drawing his calm over Akira, who let out a sob of relief as everything settled into place, the knife-edged cliff fenced back once more. He whimpered, searching desperately for his release, searching for the feeling he needed to finally let go.

 

_ His domination would leave you breathless. Finally the loss of control you seek, the final jump you could not take yourself.  _ Arsene murmured, and Akira shook his head.

 

_ I-I can’t…  _ The floor was starting to tilt under him, and he was grateful for the damp point of contact between his sweaty forehead and his forearm, stopping him from pitching forwards.

 

_ You can.  _ Arsene promised, his hand leaving Akira’s chin and settling over the mark on Akira’s shoulder.  _ Here.  _

 

Arsene’s fingers didn’t move, but the mark  _ ached _ under them, lightning flashing through Akira’s body, and Akira choked on a moan, his entire body going taunt as his vision whited out, the rubber band that was his body snapping, finally,  _ finally  _ finding release as his nerves lit up in a surge, everything spinning as cum splattered across the floor.

 

_ Good.  _ Arsene sounded satisfied, his hands leaving Akira’s body. Akira couldn’t help the irrational flicker of distress-

 

_ A-Arsene, don’t go-!  _ He thought desperately.

 

_ Hush.  _ Arsene’s wings ruffled a little, but his arms encircled Akira’s body again, just draping lightly.  _ I am part of you. I am going nowhere.  _

 

_ Sorry.  _ Akira panted, his breath loud in the silence, suddenly hyper-aware of the ache in his knees.  _ I know I just- sorry. _

 

_ Dear Akira.  _ Arsene said softly, almost tenderly.  _ Do not apologize. I understand.  _ One hand came up and gently pet over Akira’s hair.  _ Perhaps your Hanged Man will finally help take you over that edge you seek. He certainly has the temperament and care for it.  _

 

Akira shuddered a little, sitting back on his heels and blindly reaching up for the sink to turn it on, opening his salt-crusted eyes. He slowly cleaned up, taking a handful of napkins and scrubbing the floor clean with an embarrassed hunch to his shoulders. Arsene let him, pulling back and just leaving one wing curled over Akira’s shoulders. 

 

_ ….I hope he will.  _ Akira finally responded.  _ Is it wrong to be scared? _

 

_ Not at all.  _ Arsene said calmly.  _ It is something huge, terrifying. You have never achieved that state of mind, so your mind panics when it approaches.  _ Arsene settled a hand against Akira’s lower back.  _ I will be here as long as you need me, to help manage it until your mind can handle it. _

 

_ Thank you.  _ Akira shakily rose to his feet, fixing his clothing. 

 

_ Think nothing of it, Dear Akira.  _ Arsene soothed Akira, who looked at Arsene in the mirror, drinking in the sight of his first, and most important, Persona. 

 

The silence stretched on, Akira’s heart suddenly starting to pound, before he closed his eyes, reached up and settled his hand on his shoulder. After a second, Arsene’s hand settled over his, a gentle touch.

 

Finally, Arsene spoke.

 

_ Head back to bed.  _ He said.  _ You  _ **_do_ ** _ have school in the morning.  _

 

_ You’re as bad as Morgana.  _ Akira thought back and Arsene laughed, but Akira obliged, leaving the bathroom and heading back upstairs, Arsene’s touches evaporating like fog.

 

Morgana was sitting up on the bed and he looked at Akira as he came upstairs. Akira froze on the stairs for a moment as he met Morgana’s eyes, before walking over to the bed and sitting down.

 

“Is everything okay?” Morgana asked, looking up at Akira. He seemed genuinely worried, so he probably hadn’t heard any… noises from Akira. “You were gone a while.” 

 

“Yeah, just…” Akira shook his head. “It’s alright now.” He gave Morgana a small smile. “Just a bad dream. I just needed to walk it off.” 

 

“Okay.” Morgana accepted Akira’s answer easily, moving over to let Akira slide under the covers again. “Sleep well, okay?” He said, curling up next to Akira’s hip. Akira hesitated for a second before carefully laying his hand on Morgana’s back. 

 

When Morgana didn’t immediately object, Akira smiled a little more, closing his eyes and trying to fall asleep again.

 

Under his hand, Morgana started to purr.


	5. Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided this is after max social rank with Iwai, jsyk. He knows Akira's a Phantom Thief.
> 
> (6/8/18 edit- fixed some spelling errors, added a few lines, changed a phew phrases.)

The next time Iwai saw the brat, he had a friend with him. A blond girl with her hair up in ponytails, looking around the store with a casual interest. 

 

“Hey.” Iwai greeted them, and Kusuru raised a hand in response. 

 

“Good evening!” The girl greeted him cheerfully, tagging along after Kusuru, tilting her head to look up at the wall where the pricier items were displayed.

 

“Iwai-san, this is Ann-chan.” Kusuru introduced them. 

 

“A friend of yours, huh?” Iwai gave her a look-over. She was definitely one of the Phantom Thieves, then. The way she moved… Iwai didn’t know how the hell these kids were using his model weaponry, but if she was using anything, maybe it was the scimitars. 

 

“That’s right!” Ann beamed cheerfully. “It’s finally nice to meet you, sir, Akira’s been keeping his  _ hobby supplier  _ a secret for ages!”

 

“Not really. Ryuji knows.” Akira pointed out, but Ann waved a hand dismissively. 

 

“Yeah but like, he’s too intimidated to ever come back here again.” She said. “Uh, no offense sir!” She added quickly, but Iwai just snorted.

 

“Was that the blond kid who came in with you the first time?” He asked. Kusuru nodded. “No surprise there. He looked nervous enough to faint on the spot.”

 

“Ryuji’s made of sterner stuff than you might think.” Kusuru quietly contradicted him. On his back, his bag rustled and Kusuru’s cat poked its head out, letting out a quiet mew. Huh. Come to think about it, Iwai hadn’t seen that cat around much.

 

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.” He said. “You working or shopping today?”

 

“Just got some stuff for you to appraise.” Kusuru said, almost  _ too  _ casually, and Iwai cocked an eyebrow at him, setting his magazine to the side. This was always interesting, seeing the kind of stuff Kusuru had. Some of it he kept for himself, turning the interesting scraps into parts for models, other were stranger things that some of his… old connections were mildly intrigued whenever he offhandedly brought them up.

 

Ann pulled off her backpack, giving the one other customer in the store a nervous glance before pulling out a wooden snuff box, inlaid with gold. Iwai watched as she set it down with careful hands before pulling back and clasping them around the strap of her backpack.

 

Her knuckles were white. 

 

Iwai looked to Kusuru, who just nodded silently, his face strangely blank, even for him. Iwai reached for the box, carefully unlatching it and opening it. The hinges opened silently, the top of the box swinging up smoothly, without a hint of resistance. 

 

Inside, an enormous black diamond was nestled in a layer of fabric. The light caught it as he tilted the box forwards a little, casting a reflective sheen over the surface. 

 

“This real?” Iwai asked gruffly. 

 

“We think so.” Kusuru said with a nod. “We’re not sure. It came into our hands in a… complicated way.” 

 

Ann cast a nervous glance at the other customer, who wasn’t paying them any attention. Iwai wasn’t worried. His regulars knew him, knew what kinda guy he was, and would keep their noses out of his business.

 

“Hell of a ‘complicated way’.” Iwai muttered, closing the box. He didn’t recognize the cut of the gem, so it probably wasn’t a famous one, but jeez. Were these kids robbing museums or something?

 

“Can you take care of it?” Kusuru asked, and Ann glanced at him. “We don’t have any way of handling anything of this caliber.” 

 

Iwai crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, staring at the snuffbox, options running through his mind.

 

“It might take me some time.” He warned them. “It’ll have to go through some buyers, and I don’t know how many times it might change hands, but…” He frowned. “I can take care of it.”

 

Ann’s knuckles returned to a more normal shade as she sighed in relief.

 

“Phew.” She breathed out. Holy hell.  _ That  _ was an a tell anyone with enough common sense to fill a teaspoon could see. 

 

Iwai raised an eyebrow at her, and she immediately shored up her defenses, her shoulders squaring and staring him down. This one was certainly a spitfire, but she really needed some acting lessons. Iwai held her gaze for a moment before snorting, reaching for a paper bag and carefully sliding the snuff box into it, hiding it from sight.

 

“Relax.” He told her. “You kids really are in some weird fucking shit, aren’t you?” He raised a hand as Ann geared up to say something. “No, don’t tell me the details. I don’t know, and…” he thought back to the olympic medal. “I definitely don’t  _ want  _ to know.” He finished, and Ann relaxed.   

 

“Oh.” She said, and cast a look at Kusuru, an expression on her face that Iwai couldn’t quite decipher. 

 

“Was there anything else you needed?” Iwai asked, and Kusuru nodded.

 

“Another of the camisoles I got last time.” He said. “Size small.” 

 

“Right.” Iwai rose to his feet, heading into the back room to grab it. The door didn’t quite close all the way behind him, so he could hear the whispered conversation that broke out.

 

_ “That’s him?! Oh my god Akira you could have told me he’s like, what, twice your age?!” _

 

_ “Is that a problem?”  _

 

_ “I just don’t want him taking advantage of you! You know what adults are like-” _

 

_ “Iwai-san’s not like that.”  _ Kusuru’s voice was firm.  _ “He’s a good guy and he cares for me.”  _ There was a meow from that cat Kusuru carried around.

 

_ “Well… I guess I should trust you, but… be careful, okay? I don’t want this blowing up in your face.”  _ Ann sounded worried. 

 

_ “Everything will be fine. I promise.”  _ Kusuru’s belief in Iwai made him pause a moment, his chest tight before he grabbed the camisole. 

 

_ “I’m gonna need details from you later, mister. _ ” Ann hissed as Iwai pushed the door open again. She jumped, looking slightly guilty. 

 

“Here.” He dropped it on the counter, watching as Kusuru reached for his wallet, counting out the appropriate bills and handing them over. Iwai passed his change over and Kusuru picked up the packaged camisole. 

 

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.” He said, and Iwai raised an eyebrow at Kusuru. Was that a subtle way of letting Iwai know that Kusuru would be coming back tonight? Kusuru nodded back.

 

“See you.” Iwai said, and the two of them turned to leave. Iwai sighed, picking up the paper bag with the  _ huge fucking diamond  _ in it. He took it to the back and set it down in a place where he wouldn’t forget it.

 

Seriously. What was with these kids and bringing him weird shit?

 

Iwai headed back out to the front and plopped down, expecting the rest of the day to be uneventful.

 

Fifteen minutes later the regular left, purchases in hand, and not even two minutes later Ann was striding into the store, looking determined.

 

“You’re back.” Iwai said, and Ann stopped in front of the counter, crossing her arms. There was a nervous energy to her, but she was clearly fired up.

 

“Look.” She said. “Akira’s really important to a lot of people.” Iwai raised an eyebrow at her, waiting. If she wanted to be intimidating, then she had a long way to go to measure up to the kinds of people he used to be threatened by. 

 

“And I’m telling you now.” Ann scowled, uncrossing her arms as her body stance shifted. Almost more towards a fighter’s stance. “He’s on probation right now. One strike and they shove him into juvie.” 

 

Her eyes blazed as they stared him down.

 

“I’m  _ not  _ going to let that happen.” She leaned forwards, planting her hands on the counter. Iwai chewed slowly on his lollipop stick, waiting for the punchline. “So if I catch wind of  _ anything  _ bad, be it your intentions or actions, then I’m going to tear you to shreds, you understand?” There it was. “He doesn’t need that shit. He chose you, so you  _ better damn well sure you’re worth his trust! _ ” 

 

“You’re awfully protective.” Iwai said mildly, a little impressed at the conviction he could hear behind her words. Ann huffed, relaxing a little now that her piece had been said. 

 

“ _ Someone  _ has to be.” She said. “I swear, sometimes Akira has  _ no  _ self-preservation instincts.” She shook her head. “Whatever!”   
  
“Akira told me you know about us.” She said, and Iwai’s eyebrows rose in response to her blatant confession. “So I’m sure you can imagine what we could all do to you if you broke his heart.”

 

“Lucky for me, then, I have no plans on doing so.” Iwai said. He wasn’t irritated by the threat like he usually was by those kinds of things. It was a girl looking out for her friend, after all, rather than some thug trying to rough him up. 

 

Besides. He was certain that none of the thieves would actually go through with that kind of threat, if for the only reason that he was sure Kusuru wouldn’t let them. 

 

“Kusuru’s a good kid.” Iwai said, pushing up to his feet, a relaxed slant to his shoulders that had Ann unconsciously relaxing. “I have no intentions of hurting him.” He glanced to the side, briefly contemplating how much he should share to reassure her.

 

“Kusuru has… dangerous tastes.” He finally settled on. He hadn’t  _ confirmed  _ it quite yet, but everything about him that Iwai had pieced together basically screamed it. “I’m just trying to look out for him and stop him from seeking out the wrong kind of person to take care of them. He doesn’t need that kind of complicated trouble.”

 

Ann straightened up, frowning a little as she stared Iwai down with an assessing gaze. After a moment, she nodded sharply.

 

“Right.” Her body language instantly opened up as she really relaxed, shoulders dropping, shifting her weight onto one knee, her hands on her hips as she grinned. “Well, I’m glad Akira’s at least hooking up with a reliable guy, then.” Iwai snorted. Apparently that was all it took to convince her he was trustworthy. 

 

“Was there anything you were going to buy, or are you just going loiter?” He asked, and Ann laughed.

 

“Nope, sorry!” She wound one ponytail around her finger, grinning mischievously at him. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

 

“Alright, go on and get out of here then.” Iwai waved her off, taking his seat again. Ann laughed again, raising a hand in farewell as she pushed the store door open. 

 

Iwai shook his head. Well, the brat had good friends at the very least.

 

\-----

 

**Group Chat: Ann, Ryuji, Futaba, Makoto, Yusuke**

 

**Ann:** Operation “learn about Akira’s bootycall” is a success!!

 

**Futaba:** Tell all!!

 

**Makoto:** Why did we name it that...

 

**Ryuji:** Oh shit, what was he like? Dreamy?

 

**Ann:** So. Handsome. Seriously. He’s like a rugged, older kinda guy and he’s seriously BUILD. Ohmygawd. Broad as hell shoulders, Akira really knows how to pick them.

 

**Yusuke:** It sounds like Akira has found someone quintessentially the opposite of him… What a beautiful idea of a dichotomy between lovers....

 

**Futaba:** Are you telling me Akira’s into BARA!?!?

 

**Ann:** No! Well. I don’t know? I don’t think he was… beefy enough to be a bara, if that makes sense? Like built, but not like the bodybuilder type?

 

**Yusuke:** What is a ‘bara’?

 

**Futaba:** Google it.

 

**Ryuji:** DONT.

 

**Futaba:** Don’t be a wimp, safe search off!

 

**Makoto:** I think we’re getting off track… does he seem like the kind of guy to hurt Akira?

 

**Ann:** No, well, I don’t think so… he seemed like a pretty good guy.

 

**Yusuke:** Ah, I see. “Bara” is a subset of gay fetish terms to describe hyper-masculine men. 

 

**Yusuke:** Is Akira really attracted to men such as these?

 

**Ryuji:** Don’t think about it too much, dude… Most real life people don’t look like that stuff, anyway.

 

**Ann:** Ryuji, are you telling me you’ve read that kinda stuff? ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

**Ryuji:** Fuck no! You just learn shit from being on the interet.

 

**Futaba:** interet

 

**Ann:** interet

 

**Ryuji:** Oh, shut up.

 

**Makoto:** As… amusing this is, could we focus on our goal, here?

 

**Ann:** Right, sorry.

 

**Ann:** Okay, so the guy Akira’s seeing the the shop owner at Untouchable. 

 

**Ryuji:** WHAT?! 

 

**Ann:** What?? I thought you knew this!!

 

**Ryuji:** No!! You’re telling me Akira’s getting fucked by that super intimidating guy?

 

**Ann:** I mean

 

**Ann:** Among other things ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

**Yusuke:** I don’t understand what that means.

 

**Ann:** Iwai-san said Akira had 

 

**Ann:** “Dangerous tastes”. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

**Futaba:** OKAY I DON’T NEED TO KNOW THIS

 

**Makoto:** I’ve never been in Untouchable… what kind of store is it?

 

**Ryuji:** It’s where Akira gets all of our gear from. It’s run by this super intimidating guy who I’m pretty sure was in the Yakuza.

 

**Ryuji:** He’s also the guy who takes all of our, uh… shady crap and sells it?

 

**Makoto:** I see. Akira must trust him a lot, then.

 

**Ann:** Especially cause he knows Akira’s a Phantom Thief.

 

**Makoto:** ?!

 

**Futaba:** !!

 

**Yusuke:** Is that not… dangerous?

 

**Ann:** Well, yeah, but… From what Akira told me, he kinda just figured it out on his own after Akira asked us to help him out…

 

**Ann:** Put I talked with him!! He really seems to have a vested interest in keeping Akira safe.

 

**Ryuji:** “Vested”, huh? All that studyings paying off, haha.

 

**Ann:** Shut it, Ryuji!!

**Yusuke:** Well… it seems we should trust our leader’s judgement. If he has chosen to put his trust in this man, then perhaps we should do the same.

 

**Yusuke:** Within reason, of course.

 

**Makoto:** Perhaps. I would like to meet Iwai-san for myself, before I make any kind of decision.

 

**Yusuke:** Agreed. I will admit that I feel a touch uncomfortable trusting both our secret and our leader with a complete stranger. 

 

**Ann:** I totally get that, but like…

 

**Ann:** Iwai-san seems like he genuinely cares about Akira so…

 

**Futaba:** Seems like we all might need to pay him visits… I might be able to tag along with Akira, but… 

 

**Futaba:** I’m not sure how I could talk to him on my own....

 

**Makoto:** I’m sure we could go together at some point.

 

**Makoto:** It wouldn’t be a problem.

 

**Futaba:** Okay, thanks Makoto-chan!! You’re the best.

 

\-----

 

“So I was thinking about it.” Iwai said, as he pulled Kusuru to the backroom. Kusuru looked up at him, head tilted to the side. 

 

“That girl you brought in earlier, Ann-chan? She’s the whip-user, isn’t she?” Iwai asked. “She’s got the personality for it.” 

 

“She does.” Kusuru agreed softly, his dark eyes already heated as he watched Iwai shrug his coat off, draping it over his arm. That was as good as a confirmation as Iwai needed.

 

“Is the gem going to be too much of an issue to handle?” Kusuru asked, and Iwai fixed him with a slight glare.

 

“The rule goes both ways, you know.” He said. “No work talk outside of work, you got it?” He waited until Kusuru ducked his head a little, before letting up. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.” 

 

“Okay.” Kusuru said simply, and that was that. 

 

“I want to try something.” Iwai said, shutting he bedroom door. Kusuru watched him with furrowed brows, tilting his head a little. Iwai tossed his coat onto the bed before stepping towards Kusuru, pressing him against the door, one forearm braced over Kusuru’s head.

 

Kusuru instinctively tilted his head up a little, his eyes flicking up to meet Iwai’s, dark and liquid. Iwai crowded in until their noses were almost touching, the heat of Kusuru’s breath filling the space between them.

 

“You want me to dominate you?” Iwai asked, putting enough growl into his voice to make Kusuru shiver. Kusuru’s lips parted, his eyes widening. 

 

“ _ Yes. _ ” Kusuru breathed.

 

“Tell me.” Iwai pressed Kusuru a little harder against the door, feeling him start to stiffen down below. 

 

“I want…” Kusuru swallowed. His entire body was tight as his fingers gripped at the wood of the door. “I want you to tie me up.” 

 

Interesting. A thief wanted to be caught.

 

“Is that all?” Iwai asked, pressing for answers.

 

“No.” Kusuru breathed. “I want you to-” he seemed to choke for a moment, before finding his nerve. “I want you to do all kinds of things to me. Like,” he was trembling, but it wasn’t from fear, “using me however you want, forcing me to submit,” his chest was swelling with each breath, practically panting, “making me  _ yours _ .” 

 

Iwai let a low, pleased hum rumble up from his chest. 

 

“You want me to humiliate you, call you names?” He asked, forcing his thigh between Kusuru’s, grinding up against his cock. 

 

“Y-Yess-” Kusuru choked out a moan, hands flying up to clutch Iwai’s shoulders. His head banged back against the door, mouth open as he went up on his toes, hips bucking against Iwai. Last question.

 

“You want me to  _ hurt  _ you?” Iwai asked, and Kusuru went still, just minute tremors running through his body. Iwai waited. One second passed, then two, then-

 

“I don’t know.” Kusuru finally said, tone hovering somewhere around ashamed.

 

“Alright.” Iwai backed off a little, letting up the pressure. “We can talk about it later.” He leaned in to kiss Kusuru gently, and Kusuru took kiss like a parched man drinks water, clutching desperately and looking for as much as he could get. 

 

Iwai carefully disengaged from Kusuru, pulling back. Kusuru blinked up at him, slumping down the door a little as he panted softly. 

 

“Akira.” Iwai said Kusuru’s name pointedly, and Kusuru immediately snapped to attention, his brow furrowed and eyes faintly confused. “If you want to have this kind of relationship, then we need to lay down rules.” 

 

“What kind?” Kusuru asked quietly, chest still heaving a little. Iwai held a hand out to Kusuru, who took it without hesitation. Iwai brought him over to the bed, sitting the both of them down. 

 

There was that kid’s iron calm, settling him into place already. Any other teenager Iwai knew would have needed at least ten minutes to calm down. Iwai couldn’t wait to rip it away.

 

_ Focus.  _ Iwai chided himself.

 

“Relationships like this are dangerous.” Iwai said, to start off. “If anything goes wrong it can seriously harm the people involved, physically, mentally, even emotionally.” He rubbed at his face, thinking. “I want to give you want you need, but… I can only make attempts. I won’t know in advance if they’re hit-or-miss, and those misses can be very  _ very  _ bad.”

 

“I trust you.” Kusuru said simply. Iwai shook his head.

 

“Trust is only a part of it.” He said. Kusuru frowned a bit, tilting his head. “Communication is the most important aspect. Do you understand?” Iwai reached over and set his hand on Kusuru’s head, compressing his soft locks. “I need to know what’s going on in your head whenever we do dangerous stuff. If you’re injured, if you’re not feeling anything or need something in particular…” 

 

“I understand.” Kusuru said. “You can’t know unless I tell you.”

 

“Exactly.” Iwai frowned a little, trying to figure out how to say this next part. “You said that you want me to ‘force you to submit’.” He looked at Kusuru seriously. Kusuru’s cheeks went pink, but he met Iwai’s eyes squarely, not taking his words back.

 

“Do you want me to  _ force  _ you into things?” Iwai asked, letting the hand on top of Kusuru’s head slid down to cup the back of his head. “Put you in situations where you’re not allowed to say no? Because that’s…” He trailed off, shaking his head.  _ Incredibly dangerous.  _

 

“It’s not so much as I want you to force me into things, as…” Kusuru hesitated, looking for words. “I want to  _ feel  _ like I don’t have a choice. To be able to say ‘no’ and have it ignored.” As he spoke, his shoulders hunched and his cheeks burned, but he didn’t look away from Iwai.

 

Iwai felt the pressure on his shoulders vanish.

 

“Ah. I understand.” He said. “You want to be able to say ‘no’ without it meaning ‘no’. Right?” Akira finally ducked his head, nodding. “You want the illusion of being helpless.” Iwai chuckled a little, relieved.

 

“Well, that’s easy enough to do.” He said. “It’s actually the next thing I was going to bring up. Do you know what safewords are?” Kusuru shook his head.

 

“It’s basically an agreed-upon word that anyone in the scene can call to bring an end to it.” Iwai explained. “Some people have shared words, some have individual.”

 

“Oh… so I could say no and it would continue, because the only real ‘no’ is the safeword?” Kusuru asked, and Iwai nodded.

 

“Exactly.” He said. “I’m a fan of the stoplight system myself. Red is hard stop. Everything stops, the scene ends, that’s it for the night. Yellow means pause or approaching limits and needing either a break. It gives breathing room without ending the scene. Green means everything is okay and you’re ready to continue.” 

 

“It seems simple enough.” Kusuru said, and Iwai nodded.

 

“Right.” He said. “The stoplight system is ingrained into society, so it’s an easier, instinctive thing to remember in the moment, which can be a problem.”

 

“People talk about safewords, but in the moment it can be hard to remember them.” Iwai said. “Tell them to me.”

 

“Green is okay, yellow is pause, red is stop.” Kusuru recited obediently.

 

“Again.”   
  


“Green is okay, yellow is pause, red is stop.” 

 

“What do you say if you need a break?”

 

“Yellow.”

 

“And to stop?” 

 

“Red.” 

 

“Right.” Iwai gathered himself up and lunged at Kusuru, who’s eyes went wide and panicked as Iwai grabbed both his wrists, holding them tightly and shoving Kusuru down to the bed.

 

“W-” Kusuru instinctively strained up against Iwai, trying to fight out of Iwai’s grip, but Iwai wrangled him easily, dropping his weight onto Kusuru’s hips, pinning his wrists with an almost bruising force. Iwai could feel the fearful stuttering of Kusuru’s breath under him, but his eyes were on the way Kusuru’s lips parted, tongue flicking out a little in a near-silent moan.

 

“Call your safeword.” Iwai growled, leaking every inch of his old ways into his voice, tightening his grip on Kusuru’s wrists a little. Kusuru jerked, looking faintly shell shocked, but he stuttered out,

 

“R-red!” Iwai immediately let go of Kusuru’s wrists, backing off, climbing off of Kusuru and scooting back on the bed to give Kusuru space. Kusuru stared at Iwai, chest heaving.

 

“You okay?” Iwai asked softly, hands held out in front of him, palms up, in a reassuring gesture . “Sorry for the scare, but I needed to make sure.” 

 

Kusuru flushed, nodding as he propped himself up on his elbows, wetting his lips.

 

“I’m okay- oh.” He smiled a little, his gaze going sultry. “Green.” He said the word carefully, coyly, and Iwai raised an eyebrow at Kusuru. Who was now sporting a tent through his pants.

 

“Jeez.” Iwai muttered. “You’re gonna be the death of me, kid.” He swung around on the bed, collecting Kusuru’s hands up and pinning them over his head with one hand. Kusuru shifted a little, straining up and testing Iwai’s strength again. He sank against the bed, biting his lip as he flushed hard, a delicate pink painting itself over his high cheekbones.

 

“I’m gonna take care of you.” Iwai promised, reaching for Kusuru’s belt with his free hand. “And then, I’m going to  _ make  _ you take care of me.” 

  
“Oh-” Kusuru gasped, his eyes wide at Iwai’s words. “Yes,  _ please _ .” He breathed, then he was throwing his head back as Iwai’s hand slid into his underwear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally what the fuck. I sat down to write Akira finally giving Iwai a blowjob and instead THIS happened. 
> 
> ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!??!??!??!?
> 
> THERES NOT EVEN ANY ACTUAL SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER WHAT IS HAPPENING.
> 
> Also if you're wondering where the diamond came from: it's not important. Probably just a mementos job or something IDK. 
> 
> Uh. 
> 
> At least... I don't know if it'll be important. Maybe it'll end up being a Chekhov's gun... I'm not intending it to, though. 
> 
> But hey this fic has clearly taken a life of it's own so I DONT KNOW AT THIS POINT.


	6. Joining

Akira wasn’t about to let anything get in his way today. 

 

Today would  _ finally  _ be the day where he bottomed for Iwai, no more getting overwhelmed, no more distractions, no more losing his control. 

 

_ A man on a mission.  _ Succubus purred.  _ Go get him, tiger.  _

 

Akira stood outside the door of Untouchable, gathering his determination. He glanced down at his phone, where the message from Iwai was displayed.

 

**Iwai:** Kaoru’s at a friend’s tonight. Come over after school and I’ll close up shop early so we can do this right.

 

“Wait, let me out.” Morgana demanded, wiggling in Akira’s bag. “If you guys are gonna hook up then I’m not gonna be around to hear it!” 

 

“Alright.” Akira knelt down and let Morgana out. Morgana hopped to the ground, turning around and giving Akira a serious expression. At least what passed for one on a cat.

 

“I’m serious.” Morgana’s tail flicked back and forth. “Don’t let him hurt you, okay? I don’t want to have to claw his face off.”

 

“I’ll be fine.” Akira promised, lightly patting Morgana’s hand. He easily dodged the half-hearted swipe of claws. 

 

“I’ll see you at home, then.” Morgana turned and padded away down the street. Akira watched him go before turning and entering the store.

 

_ Take what you desire.  _ Arsene said, a hand between Akira’s shoulders. Akira reached for Lamia, drawing on her easy grace and coy nature, and gave Iwai a sidelong glance as Iwai looked up. 

 

_ Easy. Don’t push it too far.  _ Lamia murmured. Iwai looked at Akira for a long moment, his gaze narrow and heated.

 

“Right.” Iwai rose to his feet. “Let’s close up, then.”

 

The two of them closed the shop down, the routine well-ingrained in them at this point. It was barely a handful of minutes before they were locking up and stepping out onto the street. 

 

“It’s not far.” Iwai said, leading Akira away from the commercial section, towards the residential areas. After a couple of short blocks, they stopped in front of an apartment building and Iwai took them inside up to the fifth floor. 

 

Akira toed off his shoes once inside, taking a look around the apartment. 

 

Iwai’s home was surprisingly neat. Painted in soft blues and cream, it gave off a homely atmosphere that you wouldn’t expect from a guy who looked like Iwai. 

 

“You want anything to drink?” Iwai asked, and Akira shook his head. “Fine, let me rephrase that. We got water, juice and milk. Which one do you want?” 

 

Akira gave Iwai a confused glance, Lamia slipping back and Orthrus taking her place. 

 

_ Mate provides.  _ Orthrus growled.  _ Accept. _

 

“Believe me, you’re going to want something to drink later.” Iwai said, walking over to the kitchen. “So what’ll it be?”   
  


“Water, then.” Akira said, and watched as Iwai retrieved a glass, dropped two ice cubes in it and filled it with water. 

 

“Come on.” Iwai said, and Akira followed him to his bedroom. Iwai’s bedroom was simple and clean, a bookshelf that was full up, a dresser, along with a desk and chair. Iwai’s bed was western-style, with drawers underneath.

 

Iwai didn’t bother turning on the overhead light. The window let in enough natural light to illuminate the room without it being harsh. 

 

Iwai set the glass of water down on the desk, starting to strip. Akira watched him with a suddenly dry mouth, watching the muscles in Iwai’s shoulders as he pulled his shirt off, yearning with a desire to reach out and touch the revealed ink.

 

Color was inked across Iwai’s back, the river from both his arms spilling down from his shoulders in waterfalls. Two fierce lions stood guard at a  _ torii _ , done up in reds and yellows and silvers, their mouths open in silent roars, silent challenges.

 

The waterfalls crashed down into a river, the two streams coming together in a fork and continuing through the red gate, flowing down Iwai’s back and past the guardians. High up on his back, over the gate, a sky at dawn had been inked, with a full, pale silver moon hanging in the sky. The moon and sky was reflected in the river, the water painted in pinks and reds.

 

Symbolic patterns of what kind of man was standing before him, where he had been, what he held firm. Akira ached desperately to touch, to explore the lines of colors and the whorls of ink on Iwai’s skin, but all he could do was stare, drinking in the soul that was laid out in front of him.

 

Iwai turned around, giving Akira a smirk that sent heat shooting down his spine as Akira hastily averted his gaze, trying to hide the fact he had been staring. Iwai tossed his shirt towards his dresser, leaving his pants alone for the moment, stepping into Akira’s space.

 

“Hey.” Iwai said, his voice low. He started undoing the buttons of Akira’s blazer, one by one, uncaring of his ink being on display. Akira felt the heat rushing into his cheeks, reaching for Arsene’s calm, peeking at the rivers on Iwai’s arms. The silver koi, swimming up Iwai’s right arm, the lotus flowers floating on the river on Iwai’s left. 

 

_ Very well, but just a little, Dear Akira.  _ Arsene said, and Akira felt his nerves steady a bit.

 

“Let’s get you a little more naked, yeah?” Iwai grinned, a shark’s grin full of promises, and all Akira could do was nod. Tongue-tied, he let Iwai undo his blazer and tug it off, dropping it to the floor.

 

“Pretty little thing.” Iwai muttered, then he was leaning in and capturing Akira’s lips. Akira pressed up into the kiss, heat sparking in his gut as he twined his arms around Iwai’s neck. Iwai licked his way into Akira’s mouth, a move full of filthy promises that had Akira’s legs going weak. 

 

Iwai brooked no resistance with his kissing, one hand coming to settle on the back of Akira’s head, pulling him in close and holding him there.

 

Akira felt dizzy, like Iwai was stealing his breath with each probe of his tongue, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed up against Iwai in return, doing his best to suck on the tongue domineering his mouth, unable to stop the tiny noises escaping him. 

 

Iwai pulled back enough to chuckle and let Akira pant for breath, practically hanging off Iwai. Iwai reached for the hem of Akira’s turtleneck, tugging it up and off of Akira. 

 

“That’s better” Iwai said as Akira wrapped his arms around Iwai’s neck again, pressing their chests together. Akira couldn’t summon any words, his skin lighting up at the feeling of being pressed against Iwai. His heart felt like it was pounding up in his throat, but he was saved from having to say anything else by Iwai kissing him again.

 

Akira let himself get lost in the wet slide of tongues and lips, barely noticing when Iwai seemed to stoop down, until suddenly there were hands on his ass, hoisting him up. Akira gasped, instinctively wrapping his limbs around Iwai as Iwai hoisted him up in the air. 

 

“O-oh-” Akira blinked down at Iwai, biting his lip as he trembled a little, Iwai’s hands groping his ass and hiking him a little higher forcing Akira’s hard-on against Iwai’s stomach.

 

Iwai chuckled, tilting his head up to kiss Akira as he brought them over to the bed, climbing onto it and settling Akira down on his back.

 

He knelt over Akira, looking down at him with a fond, hungry expression on his face. Akira’s heart did an admirable job of trying to come out his mouth, feeling distinctly lightheaded by the situation. Iwai reached for Akira’s glasses, tugging them off and folding them, reaching over to settle them on his desk.

 

_ Arsene… _ Akira reached for his Persona, who put his hand between Akira’s shoulders again to steady him.

 

_ Easy.  _ Arsene soothed, as Iwai leaned in to kiss Akira again. Gentle but firm.  _ It’s alright to let go.  _

 

Akira let his eyes flutter shut again, a little moan escaping his lips as Iwai changed courses, planting kisses up Akira’s jaw to his ear, before mouthing lightly at the patch of skin behind Akira’s ear. It sent a little zing though Akira, making him gasp, hand flying to his mouth. His other clutched at Iwai’s shoulder, not trying to do anything other than hold on.

 

Iwai stayed there for a moment, licking gently, before he pulled back. Akira cracked his eyes open, meeting Iwai’s gaze, seeing the satisfaction burning there. It made Akira flush a little more, feeling a little like he was suffocating, desperate for air.

 

“What do you think, Kusuru?” Iwai asked, trailing one hand down Akira’s front, down to his belt. “You think you’re ready for the real thing?” 

 

“Yes,” Akira immediately said, and realized how eager and desperate he sounded. A burn of humiliation settled itself into his chest, turning the heat up higher. 

 

Iwai’s smirk curled up a little more as he undid Akira’s belt, then pulled back. Akira looked up at him, confused.

 

“Take those off.” Iwai said, and promptly stood up from the bed. Akira watched him reach for the under-bed drawers for a second before the command kicked in and he fumbled with his pants. He tugged a trickle of calm from Arsene, enough to calm himself to make his hands stop quivering and keep enough coordination to get his pants and underwear off. 

 

Iwai climbed back onto the bed, dropping a couple things down but popping open the lube as he grinned at Akira.

 

“Relax.” He said, settling between Akira’s legs and nudging them apart. “This is gonna feel weird at first, but just bear with it, alright?” 

 

“Okay.” Akira nodded, staying relaxed and letting Iwai manipulate him however he needed. Iwai slicked up a couple of his fingers before wrapping his hand around Akira’s eager hard-on, and Akira let out a surprised moan.

 

Iwai formed a loose circle with his fingers, giving Akira a couple of slow, long pumps. Akira pressed his hand to his mouth, trying to muffle his soft noises.

 

“I-I thought you-” Akira gasped as Iwai squeezed him a little. “Were- going to-”

 

“Oh, I am.” Iwai said, taking his hand away. Akira had to stop himself from immediately begging for it back. “Just thought it wouldn’t be very nice to leave you neglected.” 

 

“It’s not very nice to tease me.” Akira said, and Iwai chuckled.

 

“Your right.” He slid one long finger into Akira’s hole, and Akira immediately choked on his breath, his eyes going wide as his entire body tensed.

 

It was an intrusion in a place that felt so wrong and yet- the deep  _ ache  _ had Akira’s eyes blurring, gasping on a breath as Iwai pressed his finger  _ in _ .

 

“Easy, Kusuru.” Iwai said, other hand on Akira’s inner thigh. 

 

_ Relax.  _ Succubus whispered.  _ Relax. Give yourself over.  _

 

Akira reached, and Succubus responded with a giggle, feeding Akira some of her delight. In response, he felt himself start to relax, fingers pressed to his mouth. 

 

“There you go.” Iwai gently rocked his finger a little. “Let’s get you nice and relaxed.” He said, siding his finger out to dribble more lube over his fingers, and Akira felt a tremor run though him, the deep heat in his gut building and starting to form that knife-edge. 

 

Iwai slipped his finger back in and Akira forced his breathing into something longer, something more relaxing. He swallowed, hyper-aware of the way Iwai was gently pumping his finger in and out, a slow drag that was setting all of Akira’s nerves alight.

 

_ Arsene, if it gets too much-?  _ Akira said, and felt Arsene’s hand brush over his forehead.

 

_ Be brave. I will be here. _ Arsene soothed him, and the relief coursing through Akira’s veins made him choke on a sob.

 

“Easy.” Iwai repeated, and he gently tugged at Akira’s rim, coaxing Akira into relaxing more. The feeling of being opened sent heat pulsing along Akira’s nerves, waking them. 

 

“Please, more.” Akira said softly, and Iwai obliged, adding a finger. Akira immediately pressed his hand to his mouth again, his heels digging into the mattress under them, head tilting back as he gasped. 

 

“Open up, brat.” Iwai’s touch was gentle but insistent as he coaxed Akira into relaxing. He slid both fingers in all the way, pressing lightly along Akira’s velvet-soft, warm insides until-

 

“Ah-!” Akira jolted, eyes flying open wide as electricity shot up his spine, crystallizing everything, the arousal in his veins turning sharp and pained, and he let out a sob, tears spilling over. “Nn- nnnnnn-” His lips formed the word  _ no  _ but it wouldn’t come, he locked it behind his teeth.

 

“Shit, Kusuru.” Iwai stilled immediately. “You okay?”

 

“Ah, ah-” Akira trembled, everything was so  _ raw,  _ “don’t stop, don’t stop-” He begged, words just a touch slurred, and Iwai studied him for a moment. 

 

“Alright.” He said. “What color are you seeing?” He asked, and Akira fumbled with the words for a moment.

 

“Green.” He finally forced out, and there was a moment where Akira could feel the world spinning, the sheets rubbing against his back, so sure that Iwai would back away, pull away and leave, the minute shifting of Iwai’s fingers inside him the only thing grounding him-

 

Then Iwai’s fingers were carefully rocking again, tugging at his rim, coaxing him open. Akira pressed his hand to his mouth and opened his eyes, everything blurry from the tears. 

 

“More.” He finally forced out. “Iwai, I need-”

 

“Alright.” He pulled his fingers out and lubed them up again, but Akira shook his head.

  
“No, please, I want- you.” Every breath felt raw, like it was being pulled from his lungs by a malevolent god, holding his air hostage. 

 

“You sure? If you’re not relaxed enough, it could hurt.” The idea made Akira tremble and he nodded quickly.

 

“...alright.” There was the shifting of weight on the bed, the noises of clothing being removed, but Akira kept his eyes closed, feeling the water dripping down the sides of his face. 

 

“Hey.” Iwai said quietly, and two (clean) hands cupped Akira’s cheeks. The touch made him shudder, warmth shoving back the sharp knife-edged pleasure, enough for him to open his eyes. 

 

Iwai was looking down at Akira, concern clear in his gaze. He gently thumbed away Akira’s tears.

 

“Tell me what’s going on.” Iwai requested. “I need to know what’s going on in your head.”

 

“‘M okay.” Akira whispered. “‘S just… sharp.” 

 

“Sharp?” Iwai frowned a little, and Akira nodded, the ache in his gut growing with each moment of being neglected. Akira didn’t even have to reach before Arsene was feeding him some of his iron control, enough to start forming real sentences again.

 

“I want… to push past it.” Akira finally said. “It’s- there, it’s too sharp for me to- to handle. I need… help.”

 

“It’s a physical sensation?” Iwai asked, and Akira nodded again.

 

“It’s what happens- when- it gets to be too much-” His cheeks were burning under Iwai’s hands, fumbling with words as he tried to explain, head foggy and pounding. “I- I want to- endure it- it’s so  _ good,  _ but-” Akira’s words broke on a sob. “I-I can’t do it myself-”

 

“Shh.” Iwai shushed him. “I understand.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Akira’s eye, where a fresh tear was starting to roll down his cheek. “Sounds like you’ve got a pretty hard line between just feeling good and subdrop...” 

 

“But you want to be forced to ride that line, huh?” Iwai smirked, pulling back and settling on his knees, draping Akira’s legs over his own. “I can do that for you.” 

 

“Thank you.” Akira whispered, and then Arsene was pulling his control back, making Akira gasp as the fog rushed back in, tangling his words up once more. 

 

“Now,  _ relax _ .” Iwai stressed, carefully sliding forwards and reaching down to guide his condom-wrapped cock to press against Akira’s hole. Akira arched his head back, gripping at the sheets at the press.

 

The head of Iwai’s cock split him open, carving a space for itself in Akira’s body. Akira felt like a strung wire, taunt as the widest part held him open, then Iwai was pressing in, and Akira arched off the bed as his body lit up. 

 

He  _ ached _ , his gut deep and heavy, filled to the brim with Iwai, unable to focus on anything else but the feel of being split open, legs trembling. 

 

“Easy, easy.” Iwai soothed him, carefully tugging Akira a little closer, until their hips were flush and he was all the way in. Akira shoved his hands over his eyes, pressing his palms down until he let go and fireworks burst before his eyes, holding his arms open and out to Iwai as he opened his eyes, looking up at him.

 

“Iwai.” He begged with just one word, wrapping his legs around Iwai. Iwai obliged, leaning in and letting Akira wrap his arms around Iwai’s neck as they kissed, deep and searing, stoking the fires inside of Akira even hotter.

 

He  _ burned _ .

 

“ _ Please. _ ”

 

Iwai shifted, just a little, but it was enough for him to start slowly rocking into Akira’s warm, willing body. Akira clutched at his shoulders, chest heaving as he screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t take it, it was too much-

 

The bed dipped past his head, Iwai bracing his forearm against the mattress, his other hand clutching at Akira’s hip. Akira barely had a moment to comprehend the change before Iwai started picking up his pace, thrusting in and out of Akira roughly. 

 

Akira choked, grabbing desperately at Iwai’s shoulders. He writhed under Iwai, gasping wetly, toes curling as every nerve lit up, too much for him to feel, overwhelming and swelling even higher. The feeling of being forced open, forced into submission was dizzying, stealing his sense of equilibrium away.

 

He was poised on a knife edge, a thin wire stretched out over it as the knife pressed down on him, straining, straining, he could feel it, he could feel the cut coming, the snap-

 

“Iwai, Iwai-” Akira sobbed, entire body rolling with the motion of Iwai’s thrusts, waves crashing over rocks on a beach, wearing them away. He was sand, moldable by whoever left their imprints, and Iwai’s touch was burning itself into his soul, a terrifying, elating,  _ freeing  _ feeling.

 

“I’ve got you, Akira.” Iwai grunted. “It’s okay.”

 

_ Let go, Dear Akira.  _ Arsene whispered, and the sensation of Arsene’s wing curling over Akira’s back, smooth feathers against his skin, coupled with a particularly hard thrust from Iwai made Akira  _ wail,  _ his head slamming back against the pillow, his body locking around Iwai as his vision went white, all his nerves screaming at once, a release like fire, like flood, holy scripture and whispered sin. Akira was unmade, his wire severed, the snap like whiplash. A rubber band snapping back against skin. The physicality of touch, the-

 

Everything went black.

  
  


\-----

  
  


Things were fuzzy. Muddled. He could feel the heat of someone pressed up behind him. It felt good. He felt good. 

 

Everything was good. It was warm. Gentle touch on his arm. Stroking. 

 

He was good. 

 

Heat sinking into his back. Skin on skin. It was soothing. 

 

Things were becoming clearer. Sheets, under him. On his side. Spooned from behind. He was little spoon.

 

Iwai was protecting him. 

 

_ That was beautiful, Dear Akira.  _

 

_ Arsene… _

 

_ Easy. Don’t strain yourself. You’re still quite… indisposed. _

 

_ Ah… _

 

_ Just relax. You are safe. _

 

_ …? _

 

_ Right, my apologies. Of course you know that.  _

 

_ Arsene… _

 

_ Yes? _

 

_ Thank you… _

 

_ Think nothing of it.  _

 

Akira floated quietly until he no longer felt quite so much like cotton. He slowly opened his heavy eyes, unable to summon up any kind of annoyance at the collected salt on his lashes. He tried to turn over and press closer to Iwai’s warmth, but it was surprisingly hard.

 

“You’re awake.” Iwai said, his tone unusually gentle. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Mm.” Akira made a noise then realized it wasn’t actually a word. He carefully formed the shape of the word before trying to say it.

 

“Floaty.” 

 

“You dropped into subspace  _ hard _ .” Iwai said, and Akira could hear the faintest traces of worry in his voice. “I…” He trailed off, before shaking his head, leaning in to press his lips to the side of Akira’s head.

 

“Thank you for trusting me with this.” He said quietly. 

 

“Mm.” Akira’s hand was clumsy, but he reached out to gently pat at Iwai. Iwai laughed softly, pulling back. 

 

“Lemme grab your water.” He said and carefully detached himself from the mess of limbs that was Akira. 

 

Akira made a soft, protesting noise at the loss of Iwai’s heat and touch.

 

“Easy.” Iwai soothed him, returning with the cup. “I’m not going anywhere.” He helped Akira sit up and drink, Akira promptly draining the glass before flopping back down to the bed. 

 

He felt awake enough to start noticing details again. The sun had apparently set, and both of them were wearing underwear again. Iwai settled back into his place on the bed, and Akira pressed up to him with a soft, happy sigh.

 

“Was that okay?” Iwa asked, and Akira nodded.

 

“Perfect.” He mumbled. “Thank you…” 

 

Iwai pressed a kiss to the side of Akira’s head.

 

“You’ve still got some time to rest.” He said. “When you’re feeling up to it, we can talk about everything moving forwards and subdrop and stuff.”

 

“Okay.” Akira agreed, and shivered a little, pressing closer to Iwai. Iwai noticed immediately, reaching for the quilt at the end of his bed and pulling it up over the both of them. Akira sighed in soft delight. 

 

Iwai turned over onto his back and Akira immediately slid up under his arm, curling against his side. Iwai didn’t hesitate before gently curling his arm around Akira, tugging the quilt into place. 

 

Akira let himself drift, perfectly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this as a way to practice writing both a really hot pairing but also to practice writing smut. If anyone has any tips, please don't hesitate to leave a review telling me.
> 
> (6/8/18 edit- fixed some weird phrasing, added a few sentences, fixed some spelling errors and added in Iwai's tattoos. 
> 
> Like I said, Iwai's tattoos are heavily inspired by Matroyshka. I honestly believe the tatttoos they chose for Iwai were THE BEST but like... I didn't want to just copy and rip them off so I did some research and put together my own idea for Iwai's tats. Might not be 100% inline with true Yakuza tattoos, but... I did my best.
> 
> BTW, if anyone wants to guess the symbolism behind all of Iwai's tattoos, then go for it. ;) I'd be interested in seeing how people interpret what I described.)


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I went back and edited the other chapters a little bit. Not a whole lot, but between that and also school kicking my ass more than a little bit, this chapter is both smaller and way later than usual. No sex in this one, but important conversations nonetheless.

Iwai smoothed a hand down Kusuru’s back, looking down at him. The kid was pressed up to Iwai’s side, head resting against the hollow of Iwai’s shoulder. His eyes were shut, face relaxed as he drifted, still clearly blissed out. His warm breath tickled the hairs on Iwai’s chest, lips parted just a little for him to breathe deeply. Kusuru’s arm was draped over Iwai’s torso, the other curled between them.

 

_ Fucking hell.  _ Iwai ran his other hand down his face, dragging at his mouth and holding it, trying to get rid of the unease in his gut.

 

Kusuru had clearly been riding that line for a long time, that edge between normal and subspace, where everything gets overpowering and raw. He had dropped fast and hard, and the force of it had honestly shocked and worried Iwai. 

 

And now Kusuru was here, in Iwai’s arms, blissed to hell and back. The amount of trust this kid was putting in him was crazy. 

 

_ A phantom thief looking to be controlled.  _ Iwai could have laughed at the irony. Instead, he just ran his hand down the long stretch of Kusuru’s back again, smoothing his palm into the small of Kusuru’s back, where he settled it. Kusuru’s skin was soft under his hand, rising and falling as Kusuru pressed his cheek into Iwai’s shoulder a little more.

 

“Hey.” Iwai said quietly, and Kusuru’s eyelashes batted a little against his cheek as he came out of whatever headspace he had drifted into. His eyes were dark and deep as he tilted his head up to look at Iwai. Trusting. “You feeling up to talking?”

 

Kusuru seemed to consider the question for a moment, before nodding into Iwai’s shoulder. His fingers began tracing tiny circles against Iwai’s stomach, catching a little on the hair there. 

 

“You ever dropped like that before?” Iwai asked. Kusuru shook his head. “First time, huh?” Iwai said, more to himself. “Alright. How long have you been feeling that… edge?” 

 

Kusuru shifted a little, head tilting down. 

 

“As long as I can remember.” He eventually said. “It’s always been… there.” 

 

“Tell me about it.” Iwai said, starting to run his thumb back and forth over the lines of Kusuru’s spine.

 

Kusuru shrugged a touch.

 

“Okay.” He said, and frowned, clearly thinking about it. Iwai waited patiently. 

 

“It’s… sometimes it’s there, and sometimes it’s not.” Kusuru said, sounding like he was picking his words carefully. “Everything just gets… intense. If I try to push past it, it can get… painful.”

 

Iwai hummed a little. 

 

“Good pain or bad pain?” He asked. 

 

“Both?” Kusuru said the word like he wasn’t quite sure. “It gets… muddled. I can’t handle it, but I… I want to be  _ forced _ to.” He confessed. “To… endure it.” 

 

As Kusuru spoke, a pretty flush was starting to settle onto his cheeks, his gaze downcast as he traced patterns with his fingers. 

 

“Ah.” A few things clicked for Iwai. “That’s why you want to be unable to say no.” 

 

Kusuru nodded into Iwai’s shoulders, and Iwai leaned in to press his mouth to the top of Kusuru’s head. 

 

“I can work with that.” Iwai murmured, and relished the shudder that ran through Kusuru’s frame. 

 

“Okay.” Kusuru whispered, sounding like he would  _ very  _ much like to be spreading his legs again. Eager. He shifted a little closer to Iwai, sliding one leg up and over Iwai’s. A long warm press against Iwai’s side. There was a twitch of interest pressing against Iwai’s hip, and he refrained from a snort of amusement.

 

_ Teenagers.  _

 

“You’ve never been taken down before.” Iwai said. Kusuru shook his head even though it wasn’t a question. “So you don’t know about the things that can happen, after.”

 

“After?” Kusuru asked, tilting his head up a little. 

 

“Subdrop.” Iwai clarified. Kusuru shook his head a little. 

 

“Right.” Iwai rubbed his chin. “Subdrop is… well.. It’s more or less you feel like shit for a while. It can take a while to hit, everyone gets it differently.” He winced a little, remembering an old lover who used to have full-on mental breakdowns from subdrop. That was a short relationship. 

 

“It’s cause of all the shit in your head needs to set itself back to rights. It’s kind of like a balancing act. The better you feel, the worse the drop.” Iwai shrugged a little. “Like I said, everyone feels it differently. Some people barely feel it at all.”

 

“So I should just… be prepared to feel bad?” Kusuru asked, his lips tugging down into a frown. Iwai sighed a little. This was the part he was worried about.

 

“Look.” Iwai said. “In the ideal world, I’d be able to keep you around until your subdrop hit and you could ride it out. But with your situation right now, we might not be able to do that. If it doesn’t hit by the time your curfew rolls around…” Iwai exhaled, frowning.

 

“I understand.” Kusuru said. “It’s out of our control.” 

 

Iwai scowled. 

 

“Doesn’t make it any better.” He said. “It’s my responsibility to help you through it.” 

 

“I’ll be okay.” Kusuru tried to reassure Iwai, but Iwai wasn’t convinced. He wouldn’t be, until Kusuru had had his first drop and knew what it was like. 

 

“You have my number.” Iwai finally said. “If it hits you and it’s bad, then call me and tell me. I’ll talk you through it.” 

 

Kusuru nodded. He wiggled a bit, stretching out long against Iwai’s side. Iwai could feel Kusuru’s spine curving under his hand as he arched, holding the pose for a long moment. Eventually he went limp, relaxed, his lips curling up as he resumed his gentle tracing over Iwai’s torso. 

 

“Can we just stay like this, for now?” Kusuru asked. 

 

“Of course.” Iwai agreed. “We’ve got some time.” He smoothed a hand over Kusuru’s curls, leaning in to capture Kusuru’s lips in a light kiss. Kusuru hummed softly, tilting up into the motion with a sweet little smile.

 

\----

 

“Hey, Akira.” Ryuji nudged Akira a little, sitting on the benches outside at lunch. “Everything okay?” 

 

“Hmm?” Akira broke out of the staring contest he had unknowingly been having with his curry bread, blinking a little as he looked up at Ryuji. Everything seemed more hazy than usual, like a layer of fog was muffling everything ever since he woke up that morning.

 

“You’re zoning pretty hard there, dude.” Ryuji pointed out. 

 

“Ah, yeah… I’m okay, though.” Akira tried to reassure Ryuji, who let out a disbelieving noise in response. Sitting on the other bench next to Ann, Makoto frowned.

 

“You look a little peaky.” She observed. “I hope you’re not coming down with something.” She set her chopsticks down from where she had been picking at her bento, looking at Akira with a concern. Ann snorted a little.

 

“Oh, did you go see your-” She raised her pinky and hooked it at Akira, “last night?” Akira stared at the gesture for a moment, before tilting his head to the side, not knowing what she meant. “You know.” Ann dropped her voice, wiggling her eyebrows at Akira. “Your  _ lover _ ?”

 

Akira flushed a little, ducking his head as he took a bite of his curry bread.

 

“Ah-ha!” Ann crowed, sitting back triumphantly, her pigtails bouncing a little and almost smacking Makoto in the face. “I knew it. You gotta give me  _ alllll  _ the juicy details!” 

 

“Lady Ann!” Morgana complained, struggling out of Akira’s bag. “I don’t want to hear about that kind of stuff!” Akira absent-mindedly tugged the straps to the side to help Morgana escape. 

 

“I have to agree with Morgana.” Makoto said. “I have no desire to hear about Akira-kun’s… escapades.” 

 

“Eh.” Ryuji shrugged a little. “I don’t really care either way.” He bumped his knee against Akira’s. “All I gotta know- he treating you right?” He asked, his expression sliding to something more serious than his usual expressions. 

 

Akira looked down at his lunch, then to Ryuji, and nodded once. 

 

“Yes.” He said. “Iwai is…” he paused, hunting for the right word.

 

He must have hunted for a little too long, though, because then Makoto was standing up, setting her bento to the side and reaching out to press the back of her hand against Akira’s forehead.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked, her brow creased in concern.

 

“Mm.” Akira nodded, dislodging her hand. “Sorry to worry you. It’s just...” He hesitated, trying to decide what to tell them. 

 

_ Dear Akira.  _ Arsene murmured, his hand settling against Akira’s lower back.  _ I believe you are causing your friends concern. I believe honesty would be best in this case, lest they get the wrong idea in their heads. The Captain, in particular, is prone to jumping to conclusions, and his wielder is not much better. _

 

_ Right. Thanks, Arsene.  _ Akira shook his head a little to dislodge the fog.

 

_ Of course.  _ Arsene chuckled a little. 

 

“So, um.” Akira pulled together his guts as Arsene wrapped him in his iron self-control. It helped to get his thoughts in order, and Akira sent a flicker of gratefulness towards Arsene in response. “Iwai and I have a very… specific type of relationship.” He explained, and Morgana groaned.

 

“I  _ don’t  _ want to hear this!” He complained, as Makoto sat back down. 

 

“It’s important, though.” Akira said quietly. “If you want to know why I’m…” He waved a hand in a vague gesture. “...foggy.” Morgana huffed a little, but settled down next to Ann on the bench, his tail flicking a little in annoyance.

 

“It involves him…” Akira tilted his head back and forth a little, trying to phrase it as delicately as possible. “...taking me out of my head, for lack of a better term.” He finally settled on. 

 

“What do you mean?” Morgana, despite having just protested being told, was leaning forwards a little with his eyes narrowed. “Do you mean like-” He struggled to find the words.

 

“It’s not a bad thing.” Akira hastened to reassure Morgana. “He just- helps me stop thinking too much. Puts me in a fuzzy state of mind.” 

 

“Uhh….” Ann frowned. “Yeah, I have no idea what you’re saying.”

 

“I kinda get it.” Ryuji said. “Like a post-exercise high, right?”

 

“Mm.” Akira nodded. “The only thing is that… that kind of feeling comes with a downside.” He said. “It’s called,” he lowered his voice a little, pink stealing across his cheeks, “subdrop.” 

 

“Sub- like-” Makoto immediately grew flustered, and Ann raised both her eyebrows, spinning to give Makoto an inquiring look. Makoto straightened her spine, jutting her chin out.

 

“I-  _ may _ have done some research that involved reading romance novels.” She said. A devious glint appeared in Ann’s eye, and Akira barely spared a moment to feel sorry for Makoto.

 

“So,” Ryuji said, as Ann proceeded to grill Makoto for details, “you just kinda… what, feel bad for a while?”

 

“I guess.” Akira agreed. “I don’t think it’ll happen every time, but I’ll be sure to avoid having it happen on days where we do our… other activities.”

 

“Good.” Morgana said pointedly. “We need you at your A-game for those days!”

 

“Right.” Akira smiled at Morgana, who flicked his tail in response. 

 

“Alright.” Ryuji leaned back against the bench, relaxed now that he knew Akira was fine. “So… do you, like, need anything from us when this happens?” He asked. Akira considered the question, aware of Ann and Makoto refocusing on him as Ryuji asked the question.

 

“I don’t think so.” He said. “Maybe… just be a little more patient with me.” He smiled a little down at his bread, wry amusement flickering through him. “Arsene’s the only reason I’m stringing so many sentences together right now.”

 

“Aa.” Ryuji laughed, reaching over to put Akira in a half-hug. “No worries! I kinda figured something was up.”

 

Akira went with the hug easily, grateful for his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave me a message for scenes you'd like to see in the future. Kinks you guys suggest may or may not be used in the future, I have a whole list of things to do already.


End file.
